Friends With Benefits
by Heavenly Pearl
Summary: Dedicated to her career at Kaleido Stage, Layla Hamilton has no time to devote to a boyfriend, but when she and her partner Yuri Killian begin sleeping together for fun, their friendship is tested.
1. Chapter 1

NOTE BEFORE READING: This fic is technically a sequel to "Blood On His Hands", but I don't think it's really necessary to have read it to enjoy this story. (Although I hope you do!)

Chapter One

Layla Hamilton did not want a boyfriend.

It wasn't that she wasn't interested in the opposite sex – she was – but love and romance were distractions she didn't have the time or luxury to enjoy. Maybe in the far future, when her career was on the decline and she had achieved all her professional goals, she would consider getting married and raising a family, but at the moment, the only thing that mattered to her was performing at Kaleido Stage. Even though she was already the top star at the tender age of eighteen, she knew that she had not yet reach her peak.

However, just because she was dedicated to her career, that didn't mean she didn't experience the occasional sexual urge. She was a teenager; it was normal. Usually she took matters into her own hands, so to speak, but as of late, pleasuring herself wasn't cutting it. She wanted to feel the heat of somebody's skin against hers, their fingers caressing her body as their lips claimed hers, bringing her to the point of ecstasy...

As Layla took a drink from her water bottle during a break from practice, she watched her partner Yuri Killian wipe the sweat from his brow with a towel. He was going shirtless, as a record-setting heat wave had hit Cape Mary just as Kaleido Stage's main air-conditioning unit decided to go on the fritz. Everybody else was complaining up a storm about the unbearable temperatures, but Layla had to admit there were some perks to the situation.

She thought back to Paris, the previous winter when they had been named the champions of the prestigious International Circus Festival. To celebrate, they had indulged in a bottle of expensive champagne – perfectly legal in France, where the drinking age was lower – and ended up sleeping together. Her first time.

She hadn't enjoyed it much. Alcohol and sex were a bad combination, and Yuri had been upset about the unexpected death of Sophie Oswald, a fellow participant in the Festival he had apparently been seeing.

But the next morning, he made it up to her by doing some amazing things with his tongue. Layla's face went flush as she flashed back to the incredible climax he had given her that almost rivaled the feeling she had felt when they had performed the Golden Phoenix at the Festival to a standing ovation.

"Layla, you feeling okay?" Yuri asked, breaking her away from her reminiscence.

"What?"

"Your face is all red."

"I'm fine," she said, mentally berating herself for thinking of such things in the middle of practice. "Just a little over-heated, I guess." She took another swig of ice cold water, then placed the bottle against her forehead. The chill felt wonderful against her sweaty skin. "I hope the air-conditioner is repaired soon."

Although she certainly would miss the sight of shirtless Yuri…

"You're telling me." Yuri grabbed his own bottle, took a couple of large gulps, then poured the rest of the remaining water over his head. "Ah, that feels better," he said, running a hand through his wet hair. "What do you say we call it a day? It's nearly impossible to train in this heat."

Layla hated cutting practices short, but for once, the idea didn't seem so bad. Besides, opening day for their new production had been pushed back a week while the problem with the air-conditioning was being fixed.

"I think that sounds good," she agreed, starting to gather her things. She could always practice on her own later at home. Her father had a training facility built in the basement of their sprawling estate especially for her.

"Want me to give you a lift home?" Yuri offered, as he often did.

Layla had a limo and personal chauffeur at her beck and call, but she rarely used them. When he once asked her why, she told Yuri that she didn't like flashing around her father's wealth like that, but in truth, she simply enjoyed riding in his prized Ferrari. Whenever she got around to getting her driver's license – another thing she had put off in favor of focusing on her training – she wanted a car similar to his.

"If it's not a problem," she said.

"No problem at all. I want to take a shower and change first, though, so let's meet back up in…say, thirty minutes?"

"Sounds fine to me." She could use a cold shower herself. "Meet you at the car?"

"I'll be waiting."

The both of them then headed to their separate dressing rooms – one of the perks of being a headliner. The moment the door shut behind her in the bathroom, Layla peeled off her practice clothes and stepped under a blast of freezing water. The sensation was harsh at first, but once she became accustomed to the temperature, it was a welcome change from the extreme heat.

"Ah, this is heavenly," she murmured, slathering her favorite jasmine-scented shower gel all over her body.

Underneath the cold water, Layla's nipples had become hard and erect. She cupped her breasts with her hands and began twirling her thumbs over the nubs. Soon, she was quite aroused, and she reached for a girl's best friend – a detachable, pulsating showerhead. Concentrating the stream of water at her most intimate spot, she brought the picture of a shirtless, sweaty Yuri to the forefront of her mind and imagined him pleasuring her the way he had in Paris. It didn't take long before her orgasm hit – hard – blissful waves crashing over her as she cried out in ecstasy.

When she was finished, Layla quickly washed her hair, then stepped out of the shower, wrapping a soft terrycloth towel around her middle. She returned to the main room and took a seat at her vanity to apply moisturizing lotion to her skin before she began braiding her wet hair in lieu of blow-drying it.

_Sometimes I wish I hadn't pushed Yuri away, _she thought, still remembering Paris. At the time, it seemed like the best decision. He had been grieving Sophie Oswald, and Layla knew from the start that he was only using her to forget his pain. It was hardly the best way to start a relationship – not that she had wanted one in the first place.

She had been with a couple of other men since Paris. One was a handsome waiter/aspiring actor who had worked at a party her father forced her to attend. The other, some nameless face she had picked up at a club on a lark. Both were meaningless one-night stands. Neither of them had satisfied her, even though the waiter, at least, had some skills.

Layla had decided that random sex with strangers wasn't her style. She wanted to be with someone who knew her, someone who she could trust.

Someone like Yuri.

However, she didn't want a boyfriend. Just sex.

She wondered if he would be interested in such an arrangement.

"Don't be silly, Layla," she told her reflection in the mirror, reaching for a tube of lipstick.

But was the idea really so ridiculous?

* * *

Yuri waited for Layla inside his car, the motor idling as he turned the AC on full-blast. It wasn't environmentally friendly, but screw the environment. It was too freaking hot to sit around in this heat.

Fortunately, she didn't make him wait too long. A couple of minutes later, the passenger-side door swung open, and Layla slid into her usual seat. "Oh, this feels nice," she said, adjusting one of the vents so that the air blew on her face.

"Ready to go?" he asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

"Whenever you are."

Yuri pulled out of the Kaleido Stage parking lot and onto the highway leading to the Hamilton estate. Layla didn't seem to be in the mood for talking, so after a few minutes, he turned on the radio to his favorite station. He didn't mind the lack of conversation. She wasn't one for making small talk, and he didn't care much for it either, although he could be quite witty and charming when the situation called for it. Halfway there, however, Layla reached over and turned down the volume until it was barely audible.

"Yuri, are you seeing anybody at the moment?"

Yuri glanced over at her, mildly surprised by the question. They almost never spoke of personal matters. "No, nobody special," he said. "We've been so busy lately, it's hard to find time to date."

"Oh."

"You? Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Of course not." She sounded almost offended that he thought she would. Turning to look out the window, she continued, "I told you before, my career at Kaleido Stage comes first. A boyfriend would just be a distraction." Her hands clutched at the hem of her dress. "But…"

"What?" he prodded, unaccustomed to Layla seeming so…nervous. She was always confident and self-assured, the picture of poise.

"Well… Do you want to do it?"

Yuri veered slightly off the road, shocked. Once he composed himself, though, he began to laugh. "That's a good one, Layla."

"I'm being serious," she said more assertively, reaching over and placing a hand on his upper thigh. "Women have needs, too."

"Sure, but –"

"Pull over. There's a rest stop."

"This is insane," he said, even as he followed orders.

The rest stop was deserted. "Good, there's nobody else here." Layla took off her sunglasses and unbuckled her seatbelt. "Push back your seat," she told Yuri as she kicked off her heels. She then reached underneath her dress to pull down her panties.

Yuri knew it probably wasn't a good idea. After what happened in Paris, things had been awkward between them. It was only recently that their relationship had returned to some semblance of normal. He couldn't risk jeopardizing it again, not when he had yet to get his revenge on Kalos for his role in his father's early death.

But he never stopped desiring Layla. She appeared in his every erotic dream and starred in all his masturbatory fantasies. Never had a woman gotten so deeply under Yuri's skin.

He turned off the ignition and unbuckled his seatbelt before pushing the driver's seat back as far as it would go. After unzipping his fly and slipping on a condom she found in her purse, Layla straddled his lap, her skirt hiked up around her waist.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"Just sit back and enjoy the ride, Yuri," she said, lowering herself onto him.

And enjoy it, he did. Since he returned from Paris, there had been no one, and he reveled in the warm sensation of being inside a woman again. She felt so good, even better than he remembered. As Layla continued grinding her hips against him, Yuri's hands roamed up her backside until he reached the thin spaghetti straps of her sundress. The dress didn't have a zipper, so he slid the straps off her shoulders and yanked down the bodice so that her full, round breasts were on display.

Layla guided his hands to her chest. As Yuri circled her pink nipples with his thumbs, they hardened under his touch, causing Layla to let out a low moan of pleasure. She liked it even more when he started kissing her neck, alternating between licking and lightly biting the smooth flesh. Her skin smelled of exotic jasmine, the scent reminding him of their night together in Paris.

Feeling himself getting close to release, Yuri wrapped his arms around Layla's back, pulling her closer against him. Her mouth was right next to his ear, and he could hear every single whimper she made. It took all his self-control not to come right then and there, finding the sound unbelievably erotic.

It was she who climaxed first, her muscles contracting around his shaft. Layla gasped in surprise, her eyes widening as her head shot back up, and Yuri realized it must have been her first time orgasming by penetration. In Paris, he'd only gotten her off with his tongue, having been interrupted by a phone call the second time they tried to have intercourse. (The first time wasn't even worth remembering, leaving neither of them particularly fulfilled.) Feeling a bit pleased with himself, he came a few moments later, bucking his hips underneath her as he let out a satisfied groan.

When it was over, Layla climbed off of him and moved back to her own seat. The both of them were breathing heavily, their skin covered in glistening sweat. Neither said anything for a long moment until a green SUV parked in a spot a few feet away from them.

Layla quickly pulled her dress straps back up and smoothed down her skirt. "We should go," she said, buckling her seatbelt once again.

"Right."

After disposing of the condom and zipping his pants, Yuri moved his seat back to its usual position and drove off. The rest of the drive to the Hamilton estate was spent in complete silence. Many questions filled Yuri's mind concerning what they had just done, but he kept them to himself, unsure of how to broach the subject.

As always, he dropped her off in front of the main entrance of the mansion. Layla exited the car and stuffed her discarded panties into her purse. "Thank you for the ride," she said. There was a slight pause before she added, "And…the other thing."

"About that…" Yuri began, but Layla cut him off.

"I'll see you at practice, Yuri."

It was obvious that she had no intention of discussing what had just happened. Yuri got the hint. "Fine. See you later, Layla."

After she closed the passenger side door, Yuri sped off in the direction of his apartment building, silently berating himself for letting his hormones get the best of him. Sleeping with Layla again was most definitely _not _a good idea, no matter how incredible it felt. How could he be so stupid?

When he arrived home, Yuri took another quick shower, then changed into a pair of his favorite black jeans. He didn't bother with a shirt; he rarely did when lounging around in the privacy of his apartment. Walking over to the glass door leading out to a balcony, he slid the door open and stepped outside. It was still hot as sin, but a light sea breeze provided some minor relief from the heat, tousling his wet hair.

He sighed, shielding his eyes as he stared out at Kaleido Stage's main tent in the distance, surrounded almost completely by crystal blue waters that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. The view was the main reason he had chosen the apartment. He wanted Kaleido Stage to always be within his sight, so he would never lose focus on his main goal.

He had almost lost it once before, when he and Layla had first returned from Paris. After what he had done to Sophie Oswald, he questioned if he really had what it took to take his revenge on Kalos. Even now, her death continued to weigh heavily on his conscience – Yuri doubted he would ever be able to forgive himself – but he had decided to move forward with his plans, telling himself that if he didn't, Sophie would have truly died for nothing.

Everybody thought that Kaleido Stage was a place of dreams, where magic become reality, yet Yuri knew better than anyone the cost of making those dreams come true. The majority of performers were lucky to get away with only dislocated shoulders or twisted ankles. His father, however, had paid the ultimate price, encouraged by Kalos to attempt an impossible maneuver as a publicity stunt to drum up business.

Kaleido Stage was no dreamland. It was Yuri's vision of Hell, and Kalos Eido played the part of the Devil to perfection, tempting his performers to perform deadly stunts with promises of fame and accolades, all the while reaping the profits of their hard work from the safety of his office. As long as he made lots of money, he didn't care what happened to the cast of Kaleido Stage.

One day, Yuri _would_ get his revenge, but now was not the time.

For now, he just needed to play the part of Layla's partner – nothing more, nothing less. What had happened earlier could not – would not – happen again.

No matter how much he wished it could.

DISCLAIMER: _Kaleido Star_ doesn't belong to me.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Practices at Kaleido Stage resumed three days later, once the air conditioner was finally repaired. Layla had not seen Yuri since he had dropped her off at home after their last practice. She had thought about calling him and asking him to come practice in her private facility at the mansion, but after what happened…

Her hand wrapped around the side of her neck. The faint remains of a hickie still marred her skin, hidden underneath the high neckline of the leotard she wore. Every time she touched it, she remembered the feel of Yuri's lips on her body, his hands on her breasts…

"Control yourself, Layla," she muttered to herself outside the door to the practice room. "You are stronger than your hormones. Just put it out of your mind for the moment and concentrate on training."

She took in a deep breath, then opened the door. Though she was usually the first to arrive for practice, Yuri was already there, performing a headstand in the middle of the room. His T-shirt gathered around his head and shoulders, showing off his amazing six-pack abs and pecs.

Layla forced herself not to stare, knowing that if she did, she would lose her resolve. This was definitely not the time nor the place to engage in…other activities. "Good morning, Yuri," she said in as cool and professional a tone as she could manage. "You're early today."

"Layla." Yuri flipped to his feet and pulled his shirt back down into place. "Hi."

She took off her jacket and began her usual stretches to warm-up. Though she made a concentrated effort not to look at Yuri, she couldn't resist taking a few peeks. It surprised her to notice that he wasn't paying the least bit of attention to her, his back turned to her as he rolled his shoulders and arms, loosening his muscles.

Layla frowned. Yuri never bothered to hide the fact that he liked checking her out. She'd caught him doing it plenty of times before – a fact that used to annoy her to no end when they were first partnered together – so why wasn't he doing it now, when she _wanted_ him to look at her? She'd even chosen her sexiest athletic outfit – a black leotard cut high on the thigh with a sheer window highlighting her cleavage – to wear that morning, just for his benefit.

She wasn't used to being ignored.

"Yuri, help me with my stretches," she ordered him. If he wasn't going to pay any attention to her, then she would make him do so.

"I was just about to do some practice swings," he said, still not looking her way.

"That can wait. This won't take long."

He finally turned around, walking over to where Layla was lying face-up on the mat. She was propped up on her elbows, her right leg bent at the knee and her head tilted in what she hoped was an alluring fashion as she stared up at him.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked.

"Oh, uh…" She hadn't thought that far ahead. "Push this leg back to my head," she quickly decided, bringing her back to the floor and lifting up her bended leg.

By accident – mostly – her foot brushed against Yuri's crotch, causing him to let out a small gasp. Layla suppressed a smirk, pleased to see that she was able to get some sort of reaction out of him, but he recovered well, grabbing her ankle and bending her leg forwards.

"Like this?"

"More," she demanded. "Up to my head."

In order to do so, Yuri had to kneel down on the ground, positioning his torso over hers as he held her ankle near her head. The suggestive pose also allowed Layla to feel Yuri's growing erection pressing against her, straining to be released from the confines of his leggings.

"Layla, what do you think you're doing?" he asked in a low voice.

"I'm stretching, of course."

"No, you're not. You're driving a man crazy – that's what you're doing."

"Oh, am I?"

"Drop the innocent act. You know as well as I do that you're doing this on purpose. I want to know why."

"I told you before, Yuri, women have needs," she reminded him, looking up at him. "Is it so terrible for me to act on them? It's not like either of us is married."

"No, but –"

At that moment, the doors to the gym opened, and a young blond man – probably around sixteen or seventeen – entered, his face promptly turning as red as a tomato when he saw the rather compromising position they were in. Misinterpreting things, he stuttered out a fast apology and quickly turned back around, leaving.

Layla felt her face flush as well, never so humiliated in her entire life. She had an image to protect. If word got out that she'd been caught fooling around with her co-star in the gym…

"I'll go talk to him," Yuri said, getting to his feet and running out of the gym before she could even apologize.

* * *

_Which way did he go? _Yuri wondered, looking both ways when he came to an intersection. The boy couldn't have gotten much of a head start, but the corridor was clear of anyone else in the vicinity. Yuri randomly decided to go left, relieved when he finally spotted his target exiting the men's room down the hall.

"Hey, you!" he shouted, jogging to catch up with him. "The one in the blue jacket!"

The boy came to a stop and turned around, his eyes widening when he saw who was calling to him. "Oh, Mr. Killian. I'm so sorry about walking in on you and Miss Ham—"

Yuri slapped a hand over his mouth, hoping that nobody was in earshot. "Listen – what's your name?" he demanded to know.

"Kim. Kim Rommins." His voice was muffled.

"Oh, sorry," Yuri said, moving his hand away. "Your name?"

"I'm Ken Robbins, sir," he said. "I've just been hired as one of the stagehands."

Yuri couldn't have cared less. "Okay, Ken, listen to me." Clapping a hand on Ken's shoulder, he lowered his voice. "Whatever you thought you saw in there – it never happened. Understand?"

"I-I think so?"

"Good. Because if I hear of any unflattering rumors about Layla floating around…" He tightened his grip on Ken's shoulder. "Well, let's just say I can make your new job very…unpleasant."

Ken swallowed. "My lips are sealed."

"I'm glad to hear it." With that settled, he relaxed his grip and slipped back in his usual "Yuri Killian" mode, giving Ken a friendly smile. It wouldn't do to get on the bad side of a stagehand, after all. "By the way, welcome to Kaleido Stage. We'll be counting on you to help put on a good show."

"I-I'll do my best, Mr. Killian," he said, seeming a bit confused by Yuri's abrupt change in personality.

"No need to be so formal. Feel free to call me Yuri." Finally letting go of his hold on Ken's shoulder, he turned back around to head back to the gym. "See you around, Ken."

After rounding a corner, out of Ken's sight, Yuri let out a sigh. He hoped Layla appreciated the trouble he had gone through to protect her good name. What was with her recent behavior, anyway? If she wanted sex, she had no shortage of fans and admirers who would no doubt gladly take her up on the offer, so why him?

Not that he wasn't tempted… Yuri shook his head, clearing his mind of erotic thoughts of Layla. He had already decided that what happened the other day in his car could not happen again. Their relationship had to remain platonic for the sake of his revenge; he couldn't give into his baser desires.

Upon returning to the gym, he found Layla waiting for him. She stepped forward, clutching a clenched fist to her chest.

"Yuri, I –"

"It's fine," he said. "He promised not to say anything. You don't have to worry."

"Oh, good." She was visibly relieved, looking as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. "Thank you."

Yuri walked over to the ladder and started climbing up to the platform. "Come on, we should start practicing," he said, deciding it was best just to pretend that nothing had ever happened.

"Yuri?"

He glanced down at Layla, who was standing down at the bottom of the ladder. "What is it?"

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then shook her head, changing her mind at the last second. "No, it's nothing," she said, walking over to the other ladder. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Yuri did not offer to give Layla a ride home after practice, so she was forced to call on her chauffeur to pick her up from Kaleido Stage. When she arrived home, she headed directly up to her bedroom and plopped down on her bed. She stared blankly up at the ceiling for several moments until she heard a soft knock on the door.

Layla sat back up and smoothed down her hair. "Come in," she said, knowing without asking that it was her devoted maid Macquarie.

The maid entered the room, carrying a small tray. "I brought you some iced tea, Miss Layla," she announced, setting the glass down on a coaster on top of the bedside table. "I thought you might enjoy a cold refreshment after practice."

Though Layla wasn't very thirsty, she reached for the glass and took a few sips of the drink. "Thank you, Macquarie."

Usually, the maid would have taken that as a dismissal, but Macquarie remained standing where she was, the empty tray clutched to her chest. "Um, Miss Layla, is something…is something bothering you?"

"What do you mean?"

A blush crossed the bridge of the maid's nose. "Perhaps it's none of my business, but you seemed a bit upset when you arrived home."

That came as a surprise to Layla. She thought she had been acting normally, but then again, Macquarie did, on occasion, seem to have the uncanny ability to read her mind. It was one of the reasons why she was such a good servant.

"I'm sorry," Macquarie apologized when Layla didn't say anything. "I shouldn't have said anything…"

"No, it's fine." Standing up, Layla walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room and frowned at her reflection. "Macquarie, do you think I'm attractive?"

The maid blinked. Layla was not usually one to fish for compliments. "Miss?"

"I have a nice figure, right? And a pretty face?"

"You're the most beautiful woman I know, Miss Layla," Macquarie assured her, her blush deepening. "In fact, I think you're amazing."

"Thanks." A brief smile crossed her lips, although Macquarie's words didn't make her feel that much better. Of course she would tell Layla she was beautiful; it was a maid's job to keep her mistress happy.

Besides, it was Yuri's opinion that mattered most.

She let out a sigh. What was she doing wrong? He seemed to enjoy himself well enough that time in the car, but maybe she simply wasn't good at having sex. It wasn't as if she had a ton of experience – certainly nowhere close to Yuri's level. Was that the problem? Did she…bore him?

That was simply not acceptable. She was Layla Hamilton – she was great at everything she tried.

"Miss Layla?"

Layla jumped. "Oh, Macquarie, I forgot you were still here," she said, turning back around.

"Is there anything else you need?"

"No… Wait, do you happen to have a copy of the latest _Cosmo_ laying around?

Macquarie blinked, looking at Layla as if she had just started speaking another language. "_Cosmo_? You mean, the magazine?"

"Yes. Or a similar magazine would be fine, too."

"I'm sorry, I don't usually read those types of things, but if you'd like, I can pick up the new issue at the store. I was just about to go out to buy some more coffee for tomorrow morning."

"No, don't go to any trouble," Layla said, spotting her computer on her desk and getting a better idea.

"Are you sure? I don't mind."

"I'm sure."

"Well, do you need anything else while I'm out?"

Layla couldn't think of anything, so with a respectful bow, Macquarie finally left the bedroom. After closing the door behind her, Layla turned the lock on the knob and took a seat at her desk, booting up the computer.

She wasn't much of a computer person, admittedly. Her father had bought her the state-of-the-art PC for Christmas last year, but she rarely turned it on, only using it to check her email or occasionally search for reviews on her Kaleido Stage performances. Bringing up the Google homepage in her browser, she hesitated for a moment before typing the word "sex" in the search bar.

"Wow," she said when she saw how many hits came up.

However, most of the top results only dealt with sex in the most dry, technical way, telling her things she already knew from seventh grade health class. Layla sighed. She wanted to know more.

She went back to the search bar and tried a different choice of keywords, bringing up a more fruitful list of results. Clicking on one of the links that seemed the most promising, the webpage opened to a video. Even though Layla was alone, she still glanced over her shoulder before clicking "Play", her eyes becoming glued to the naked couple on the monitor.

Layla tilted her head to the side about midway through the video. Though she was more than flexible enough to get into that position, it was hard to imagine it being very pleasurable for the woman. Still, she learned quite a bit from the video, picking up several tips she was eager to try out if she got the chance.

She continued watching videos and reading how-to articles until dinnertime, nearly jumping out of her skin when Macquarie knocked on the door, announcing that dinner was served. Quickly closing out of the video she had been viewing, Layla called out she was coming and headed downstairs to eat.

DISCLAIMER: Kaleido Star doesn't belong to me.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Opening day for Kaleido Stage's newest production, _Rapunzel_, had finally arrived.

No matter how many times she opened a new show, Layla became a bundle of nerves before the first performance. Many of her fans – and maybe even some co-stars – would be surprised to hear her admit that, as she always tried her best to put on an air of calm confidence in front of others, but inside, her stomach twisted up in knots, and she frequently had to squeeze her hands into tight fists to prevent them from shaking.

Nerves were a good thing in her book. They meant she cared about her performance and how the audience would react.

Layla was more nervous than usual, however, for she had decided to seduce Yuri Killian after the show. Thanks to her Internet research over the last few days, she had plenty of new ideas she was eager to put into practice. She had even bought her first sexy lingerie set in preparation, the Victoria's Secret bag stashed inside one of the drawers of her vanity.

But that was for later. Right now, she needed to concentrate on getting through the first performance.

After she finished braiding her hair, Layla stood up from her chair and made a few final adjustments to her new costume – a pale pink dirndl-inspired design with a gauzy, detachable skirt. Thankfully, the costume designer had seen reason and realized Layla wouldn't be able to perform her daring tricks and maneuvers while wearing the super-long wig that was part of the original design.

A glance at the clock on the wall revealed it was almost time for the show to begin. Unfurling her fists, Layla forced herself to close her eyes and take several deep breaths. _I am Rapunzel_, she repeated several times in her head, a ritual she performed before every show as a way to get into character. When she opened her eyes a few moments later, her nerves had settled.

Layla exited her dressing room and headed toward the stage, spotting Yuri along the way. He walked a few feet ahead of her, the outline of his firm buttocks and muscular legs on full display in the very snug navy tights he wore. Her eyes glued to his backside, she inhaled sharply, her insides twisting in a manner that had nothing to do with nerves.

"Layla, wait up!"

Upon hearing the voice of Sarah Dupont, Layla came to a stop and shook her head, clearing her mind of all inappropriate thoughts of Yuri. She had a show to do; there would be plenty of time to focus on his…assets later.

"I am Rapunzel," she muttered once again to herself as Sarah, dressed in an almost identical costume to hers, caught up to her.

"Hey, thanks for waiting for me," Sarah said, sighing when she saw Layla's simple braid. "You're so lucky you don't have to wear this stupid wig." She struggled to carry the bottom of her ten-foot long blond wig, nearly tripping over a section that had fallen out of her arms. "Remind me when the show has ended to kill Kalos for choosing _Rapunzel_ for our new production." Sarah was also playing the role of Rapunzel – or rather, Rapunzel's voice. Unfortunately, since her role was much less physical than Layla's, she had no excuse not to wear the ridiculously long and heavy wig.

"I will, as long as you don't make a fool of yourself on stage," Layla said as the two of them resumed walking. While she sympathized with the diva's plight, knowing from her experience at the publicity photo shoot just how uncomfortable the wig was to wear, it was an entertainer's job not to let such things distract them from their performances. "I want tonight's performance to go off without a hitch."

"Don't worry, don't worry! Rehearsals have been going well all week. I have no doubt tonight will be a smashing success!"

Layla pursed her lips. True, there had been no major issues during rehearsal, and Sarah – the most senior and experienced cast member – rarely made mistakes on stage despite her flaky off-stage personality, but she still had her concerns.

Once they reached backstage, Sarah excused herself to get mic'ed by the sound engineer, leaving Layla on her own. She wandered over to the left wing, taking a peek out into the audience. Even though she knew there was no point, her eyes couldn't resist searching for her father's face in the row of seats reserved for Kaleido Stage's investors and special guests.

He hadn't come. She wasn't surprised.

"Good crowd tonight," Yuri said, coming up next to her. "I heard tickets are already sold out for the next two weeks. Kalos must be thrilled."

Layla detected a hint of bitterness in his voice when he mentioned their boss's name. It was something she noticed on occasion, more frequently as of late, though she never asked about it, having little interest in whatever feud was going on between the two as long as it didn't negatively affect the show.

"Two weeks is a good start, but we'll need to get good reviews for tonight's performance if we want an extended run," she said, crossing her arms. "_Romeo & Juliet_ ran for almost six months."

Yuri arched an eyebrow. "You think _Rapunzel_ can match _Romeo & Juliet's_ success?"

"Probably not," Layla admitted, knowing that _Romeo &_ _Juliet_ had been a special production that was unlikely to be duplicated for a very long time, "but I'm aiming for at least a two-month run."

"Well, then, I will do my best not to disappoint."

One of the stagehands called Yuri over to discuss the rigging for one of his solo routines, so he excused himself, leaving Layla once again on her own. She frowned, taking one final look out into the audience before beginning some light stretches to warm up.

If only the production had one spectacular moment to get people talking… _Rapunzel_ wasn't a bad show by any means, but she feared many fans would be disappointed that it wasn't a masterpiece on the level of _Romeo & Juliet_, which had featured her and Yuri's iconic Golden Phoenix maneuver as the climax. Kaleido Stage's ongoing success – not to mention her reputation as a Kaleido Star – was on the line. If _Rapunzel_ bombed, it would be difficult to convince audiences to come back for future performances.

Failure was not an option.

But there was little she could do only minutes before show time except hope that everybody in the cast did their part with no major mistakes. As long as they put out a solid performance, it would probably be enough to satisfy most of the audience and critics, even if they didn't get the rave reviews that _Romeo & Juliet_ received.

Biting her lower lip, Layla's eyes wandered over to Yuri, who was still talking with the stagehand from earlier. She actually did have one idea for how to bring some excitement to the show, but she had dismissed it as a cheap trick, a gimmick unworthy of someone of her talent. Still, she was not unaware of a certain large subset of fans who enjoyed imagining that she and Yuri were partners both on and off the stage. Would it be so terrible to give the so-called "shippers" a taste of what they wanted?

She shook her head. No, she refused to lower herself to that level, not without good reason. She wanted glowing reviews for her performance and technical ability, not for pandering to the audience.

But if she sensed the show was in trouble… It was an idea worth keeping in mind. Just in case.

* * *

From the wings, Yuri watched Layla and Natalie, the woman playing Mother Gothel, perform their juggling routine, his eyes narrowing. They were doing well, and the audience clapped at all the right moments, but the applause rung hollow – given more out of politeness than genuine awe.

Layla's goal for a two-month run seemed even more of a reach than he thought. In fact, Yuri wouldn't be surprised if people started returning the tickets they had already bought, demanding refunds. The bar had been set high by their last show. The audience expected another _Romeo & Juliet_, not a technically competent but otherwise unremarkable production, no matter how wonderful and talented Layla was in the lead role.

Not that Yuri minded if Kalos lost a little money, but it served his goals if Kaleido Stage at least remained profitable for now. He didn't have the money or the influence to take over the stage as of yet; it would be another year or two before he could afford to put his revenge into action.

"Yuri, Ryan, and David, you're on in two," Ken said, holding up two fingers. "Get into position."

Yuri nodded in acknowledgement, pushing his concerns aside as he climbed in the saddle of his loyal "steed" – in actuality, two of the lower-ranked male cast members dressed in a horse costume. A couple of the other stagehands snickered behind their clipboards, and even Yuri had to roll his eyes, well aware of how ridiculous they looked, but Kalos enforced a strict "no animals" rule, necessitating such silly measures.

Back on stage, Layla and Natalie had cleared off, the focus moving to Kaleido Stage's resident diva, who descended from above on a swing created to look like flowering vines. Sarah's soaring vocals filled the arena, singing of a desire to one day leave her tower prison and discover true love. As her song reached its climax, Ken gave the cue for Yuri's entrance, Ryan and David moving as gracefully as they could manage while they carried him center stage.

Getting into the role of the prince, Yuri kept his eyes fixated on Rapunzel, enchanted by her beautiful singing. He dismounted his "horse" with a flourish, whipping his cape behind him as he approached the long braid that dangled even beyond her bare feet. His hand reached out to touch it, but the moment he did, Sarah's microphone picked up her horrified gasp.

Yuri glanced upwards, just in time to see the wig falling off Sarah's head. Though she attempted to grab it, it slipped right through her fingers. The mass of golden tresses came pummeling down, missing Yuri only by mere inches thanks to his quick reflexes.

A few scattered chuckles rippled through the audience, followed by hearty laughter once the majority got over their initial shock.

_Shit!_

Thinking quickly, Yuri snatched the wig off the stage and tossed it to Ryan and David. The two of them, abandoning their roles as the horse, carried it off to the left wing while Yuri distracted the audience with an improvised floor routine filled with impressive flips and twists. Sarah's swing was lifted back up and soon replaced with the long rope needed for his Corde Lisse act.

He grabbed the rope and began his routine, getting the show back on track. Making his way up the "tower" where Layla awaited him on the trapeze platform, Yuri performed a complicated series of tricks on the rope, showing off his strength and agility. Again, the audience applauded his effort, a few people gasping when he executed a dramatic death drop, but as with the rest of the show, he didn't get the sense that they were truly enthralled with the act.

When Yuri finally made it up to the platform, Layla walked up to him and placed her hands on his cheeks. "Follow my lead," she said, loud enough that only he could hear.

"Lay–?"

Her name died on his lips as she covered them with her own.

Yuri's eyes widened in surprise. Though the prince and Rapunzel were supposed to share a kiss at this point, he had expected only a fake stage kiss as they had rehearsed.

Yet upon hearing the cheers and whistles from the audience below, Yuri quickly figured out Layla's ruse, impressed by her cleverness. By kissing him, she practically ensured that Sarah's wig mishap would become nothing more than an amusing anecdote in tomorrow's reviews, rather than the main headline. In fact, with enough buzz, the kiss had the potential to save the entire show from failure.

With that in mind, Yuri placed his hands on Layla's hips and drew her closer toward him. If they were going to do this, they might as well give the people their money's worth. The cheers grew even louder as their kiss deepened, for which Yuri was grateful. The noise kept him fully in the moment, preventing him from losing focus and forgetting that they were only acting. Even then, he cursed the small part of him that was disappointed when Layla finally pulled away, brushing him on the platform to reach for one of the swings.

The rest of the show went off without a hitch, and when Yuri and Layla stepped forward to take their final bows, they received a rousing standing ovation. Yuri smiled and waved in appreciation, but he had to admit the applause was somewhat unsatisfying, knowing that it was mainly in response to the kiss and not their actual performances. Beside him, he could tell Layla felt the same, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

Well, at least they had managed to save the show from certain disaster. It wasn't the amazing opening day the cast had hoped for, but it could have been worse.

A lot worse.

"My dressing room. Ten minutes," Layla said in a low voice that only he could hear as the curtain lowered in front of them.

"Layla?"

But when he rose from his bow and glanced over, she had already disappeared.

* * *

Wondering why he had been summoned, Yuri knocked on the door to Layla's private dressing room fifteen minutes later.

"You're late," she greeted him. She had already taken off her stage make-up and costume, a white silk robe wrapped securely around her body. Opening the door wider, she said, "Come in."

Yuri stepped into the room. It was the first time Layla had ever invited him inside, and he noted that it was larger and more elaborately decorated than his own, filled with numerous flower arrangements from her adoring public. There was even a bed provided, covered with silken sheets and satin blankets. _Nothing but the best for Layla, _he thought somewhat bitterly. Kalos knew no limits to keeping his favorite Kaleido Star happy.

"Layla, what is this about?" he asked, crossing his arms and forcing himself not to imagine what she may – or may not – be wearing underneath her robe. "The kiss?"

Sitting down at her vanity, Layla started unraveling her braid. "Oh, yes, sorry about that," she said, her eyes lowering in her reflection as she reached for a silver-plated brush. "I didn't mean to spring it on you like that."

"No, I thought it was a brilliant idea. I just never expected for you to resort to such gimmicks."

"I had to do something." Brushing her now-loose hair, she frowned. "You did a decent job dealing with Sarah's fallen wig, but I couldn't let a huge mistake like that be the audience's lasting impression of the show."

Yuri arched an eyebrow. Only decent? He thought he had done a rather impressive job in the aftermath, especially considering he only had seconds to react and create a distraction. Then again, he had worked with Layla long enough to know that she was rarely effusive with her praise.

"Well, it certainly made an impact," he said. "The only issue is, now everybody is going to expect it. If we go back to performing fake kisses, the audience won't be pleased."

Layla set down her brush, turning around in her chair. "Is that going to be a problem for you?"

Other than the fact that he was still insanely attracted to her and wanted to do a lot more than just kiss on the stage? "No, it's not a problem," he said. "I'm fine with it if you are."

"Good. That wasn't why I asked you to come, though."

Standing up, Layla walked over to the door and twisted the lock. She then turned back around, hesitating only for a moment before untying the knot of her belt and letting the robe slip off her slender shoulders to the floor at her feet.

Yuri's breath hitched at the back of his throat.

Layla had never looked sexier. Dressed in a sheer lace bralette and matching g-string, she was a naughty angel in white. Hints of pink flesh peeked through the delicate fabric, offering a tantalizing glimpse of what laid beneath, while the tiny thong left very little to the imagination.

A smile crossed Layla's lips. "Do you like?" she asked, pressing herself against him as she whispered in his ear.

Yuri didn't trust his voice. All he could do was nod as her nimble fingers unfastened the buttons of his shirt, a hand slipping inside to run over his torso with a feather-light touch.

It wasn't until Layla reached behind her back for the clasp of her bra that Yuri's head cleared enough to come to his senses. "Wait, stop," he said, fighting against his baser instincts, which most certainly wanted her to keep going.

Layla brought her arms back down to her sides, tilting her head to the side. "Don't you want to?"

That wasn't the problem. "I'm…a little confused," he admitted. "When we were in Paris, you said you had no interest in dating –"

"But we're _not _dating," she said. "We're just sleeping together."

"So, what? We're, like, friends with benefits? Fuc–"

Layla interrupted him. "Yes, if you must label it, we're friends with benefits. Don't call me that other thing. It's so vulgar."

"Fine. Whatever." Yuri plopped down on the leather sofa in the center of the room and sighed. He couldn't believe what Layla was suggesting. "I just don't know if it's such a good idea."

In fact, he knew it wasn't. Agreeing to kiss Layla on stage was one thing, but this…

"Why not?" Layla walked over to stand in front of him, a hand resting on her hip. "I think it's a great one. I don't want a boyfriend, and you'll sleep with anyone with breasts and a vagina…"

"Hold on. Is that really how you see me?" Sure, he was far from an innocent altar boy, but it wasn't like he was some sex-crazed horndog who screwed every woman he met, either. How did she even come to that conclusion?

Then, with a frown, Yuri remembered their flight back from Paris, when Layla had caught him joining the Mile High Club with a pretty, nameless Frenchwoman he had met on the plane. That had capped off a weekend during which he had cruelly seduced Sophie Oswald for the sake of his revenge and took Layla's virginity – admittedly, not one of his finest moments.

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?"

"No, it's not," Yuri said. "If you really must know, there's been no one else since we came back from Paris." He immediately regretted revealing that fact.

"Oh, I didn't realize," Layla said, her voice softening. "Because of Sophie Oswald? Did you really care for her that much?"

"Sophie has nothing to do with it. She was just a girl I knew, that's all." A girl he killed, but Yuri immediately pushed that thought away. Even now, whenever he thought of what he had done to her, he felt sick to his stomach. "Can we not talk about her?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean –"

"It's fine," he said, deciding to return to the original topic. "Anyway, I just haven't met anyone." A lie, of course. He had met plenty of girls who, before Paris, he wouldn't have hesitated to take to bed, but none of them could even hold a candle to Layla. "Like I told you, Kaleido Stage has kept me pretty busy as of late. I haven't the time to try to pick up women."

"See? That's why this is the perfect situation. Whenever one of us is in the mood for sex, I can come to you or you can come to me, no strings attached. You can even sleep with other girls if you want. Since we're not dating, I don't mind."

"And you can sleep with other guys?" Yuri asked, trying not to sound too jealous. After all, if he was free to sleep around, it was only fair that she should be able to do the same.

Layla shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, I suppose, but if I wanted to have sex with a bunch of different guys, I wouldn't be suggesting this. Too much trouble."

"I don't know…"

He was tempted. Oh, but he was tempted! What man in his right mind wouldn't be? A beautiful woman offering to have sex with him whenever he wanted, _and _she didn't mind if he had other lovers? It was the type of situation most guys dreamed about. And Layla… Yuri desired her like he had no other woman in his life. He had fought against it, buried it deep inside, but ever since their moment of illicit passion in the car, he had thought little of anything else.

Yet he couldn't ignore the annoying little voice in the back of his mind that told him that it would be wrong to take advantage of Layla like that. It was bad enough that she was unknowingly a key part of his revenge against Kalos; to use her for sex as well…

"Perhaps you need a little more convincing?"

She held out her hands, and against his better judgment, Yuri reached for them, allowing Layla to pull him back to his feet. She peeled off his open shirt, tossing it aside, then again reached behind her back to unhook her bra. That time he didn't stop her, his breath catching as her breasts were released from their lacy confines.

"Layla…"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, her soft chest pressing against his bare skin in a way that made Yuri moan with desire. All memory of his vow to keep things platonic between them flew out of his mind as his hands slid down her back to her rear, pulling her even closer against him.

Still kissing, the two of them made their way over to the bed. Layla's lips traveled southward, landing soft pecks down his neck, chest, and abdomen until she was sitting on the edge of the mattress. Yuri sucked in a breath as she unzipped his fly and pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees, his cock already half-hard.

Her eyes gazing up at him with what could only be described as pure lust, Layla wrapped one of her hands around his shaft, sliding it up and down his length. It felt nice, but she was being too gentle to really do much for Yuri, revealing some of her inexperience despite her otherwise convincing seductress act. Not wanting to discourage her by saying anything, he covered her hand with his own, squeezing it until Layla got the message and began touching him with a firmer grip.

She was a fast learner, studying his reactions to determine what he liked best and adjusting her technique in accordance. Yuri's breath quickened when she found the proper rhythm, coming closer and closer to the brink until he felt like he was going to burst. Not wanting to come so soon, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away.

He couldn't wait any longer. He wanted inside her. Now.

"Do you have –"

"Vanity," she said, falling back on the bed.

After he finished yanking off his pants, Yuri walked over to the vanity, but he didn't see any condoms laying on top. He searched through the drawers until he found her stash and slipped one on. When he turned back around, Layla was on her hands and knees, her firm buttocks in the air. She had already discarded her thong.

Grinning, he entered her from behind, his hands resting on her hips, and began thrusting inside her. Layla's fingers grasped at the silky bedspread, softly moaning whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

"Faster," she panted, her breathing becoming heavier the longer he continued.

Yuri was happy to oblige, picking up the pace, and Layla let out an immodest scream, quick to bury her face in her arms in case somebody happened to be passing by her room. It didn't take long for his orgasm to follow, pushed over the edge by her reaction.

Layla glanced back at him over her shoulder when they had finished, smirking. "So? Was that enough convincing?"

Sitting down on the bed, Yuri sighed. She was serious about this whole thing, wasn't she? "Are you absolutely positive you want to do this?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't." Layla grabbed her robe off the floor and put it on, covering her nudity. "Look, if you're worried that I'll have you fired if our arrangement soured, don't be. I promise, whatever happens, I won't let it affect our professional relationship."

She was making it very difficult to refuse her request. "And you meant it when you said I didn't have to be faithful?"

"Sleep with whoever you like, as long as you wear a condom. I'm on the Pill, but I don't want to catch any infections."

"Then…okay," Yuri said, hoping he didn't come to regret his decision. "We can be friends with benefits.

DISCLAIMER: Kaleido Star doesn't belong to me.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Yuri was horny.

_Very_ horny.

A few days had passed since he and Layla entered into their little "arrangement", but neither had taken advantage of it as of yet. Truthfully, Yuri just wanted to forget he had ever agreed to such a stupid proposition, but the head in between his legs wouldn't let him.

So, as he drove Layla home, Yuri wondered how he should broach the subject with her. He wasn't accustomed to outright asking for sex. Usually he took a girl out, showed her a good time, and if the mood was right…things would just naturally happen. However, Layla had been very clear that romance was off the table, so it wasn't as if he could ask her on a date.

He let out a groan, lightly hitting his forehead against the steering wheel while waiting for the traffic light to turn green.

"Yuri, it's just a red light," Layla said, misinterpreting his frustration. "No need to be so dramatic about it. See, it's already green again."

"Right. Sorry." He tapped on the accelerator and made a left turn, keeping his eyes on the road as he asked, "So, any plans for tonight?"

"No, not really. You?"

"No, me neither." Yuri briefly risked glancing over at Layla. She, too, was staring straight ahead, although her fingers were digging into the fabric of the white skirt she wore, the hemline coming dangerously close to the top of her thighs. He unconsciously licked his lips and swallowed, feeling himself harden.

Should he just pull over? Yuri had enjoyed their previous romp in the car, but he had to admit it wasn't the most comfortable location.

"Want to go back to my place for a while?" he asked instead, deciding to just bite the bullet. "We can…uh, you know…"

He ran a hand through his hair, berating himself for sounding like a nervous virgin, but Layla didn't seem to notice, answering, "Sure, I don't mind," in her usual tone of voice.

"Okay."

They were silent the rest of the short drive to his apartment.

"Nice place, Yuri," she said, looking around as she entered the living room.

"Thanks."

It occurred to him that this was the first time he had ever invited Layla to his place since they had been paired up at Kaleido Stage. He occasionally went to her house to practice at her private gym, sometimes even staying for dinner at her maid's insistence, but Yuri had never had a reason to ask her over before.

"Do you want anything to drink?" he asked.

"Bottled water would be nice, if you have any."

"Sure. Make yourself at home."

Yuri headed to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of bottles of Evian from the fridge. When he returned to the living room, however, Layla was no longer there.

Had she changed her mind? "Layla?"

"Outside," she called out, and he noticed that the sliding door to the balcony was halfway open.

Relieved that she hadn't left, Yuri joined her out on the balcony. "Here," he said, handing her one of the bottles.

"Oh, thanks." She took the offered drink and twisted off the cap to take a sip. "What a gorgeous view you have. I can even see Kaleido Stage from here."

"Yeah, it's pretty nice, I guess." Not wanting to think about Kaleido Stage at the moment, Yuri turned around so that his back was leaning against the railing and took a large gulp of his own drink. "So, are you hungry? I'm not much of a cook, but we can call for delivery if you want."

Layla looked over at him, frowning. "Yuri, this isn't a date," she reminded him. "I didn't come here for food."

"Right."

As if he could forget.

Yuri took Layla's water bottle from her hand and set it, along with his, down on a small table he had placed out on the balcony for whenever he wanted to eat outside. He then moved behind Layla and reached underneath her skirt, hooking his thumbs around the waistband of her panties.

"Here?" she breathed, glancing back over her shoulder.

"Why not?"

He began slowly pulling down her panties, giving her a chance to say "no" if she wanted, but she didn't object, stepping out of the lacy briefs when they hit the ground. Getting down on his knees, Yuri lifted up her skirt and admired her firm, tight butt.

"You have a gorgeous ass," he said, kissing her round cheeks as he ran a hand up the smooth skin of her inner thighs. When he reached the apex, he slipped his pointer finger inside her, pleased to discover that she was already quite wet with arousal. A soft gasp escaped her lips. "Spread your legs."

Layla did as she was told, gripping the balcony railing as she leaned forward to give him better access. Yuri continued to finger her, experimenting with various positions, pressures, and speeds to determine what she liked best. Circling her swollen clit with a light touch seemed to get the best reaction, Layla almost panting as he increased his speed. Sensing that she was close to climax, he took his finger away and replaced it with his tongue, soon pushing her over the edge. She stifled a scream as he drank of her juices.

"Oh, that felt amazing," Layla declared, pulling her skirt back down and turned back around to face him.

Smiling, Yuri rose back to his feet and took a swig of his water – or maybe it was Layla's. He couldn't remember which bottle was whose, but after what he had done to her, drinking out of her water bottle was…tame. Almost cute, in a way. What was that phrase he had once overheard Sarah – Kaleido Stage's resident Japanophile – use to describe it?

Oh, right. An indirect kiss.

Setting the bottle back down, he gave her kiss – a direct one, that left little room for interpretation – and asked, "Want to continue this inside?"

Layla nodded and followed him back inside the apartment, Yuri leading her toward his bedroom until he remembered there were some personal items on display in his room that he would rather Layla not see.

"Wait here for a sec," he said, holding up a hand. "I want to straighten up some. I wasn't expecting company, so it's a bit of a mess in there."

"Oh, okay."

Yuri entered his bedroom, careful to close the door behind him, and picked up some of the dirty clothes he had laying on the floor, throwing them in the hamper. He then grabbed a couple of framed photographs of his parents from off his dresser and hid them in the top drawer, underneath his boxer briefs. He was looking around the room one more time, making certain that there was nothing else in sight to incriminate who he really was, when a knock on the door startled him.

"Yuri, have you finished hiding your porn yet?" Layla asked from behind the door.

"Just one more minute," he said, not bothering to correct her assumption – although it did remind him of the issue of _Playboy_ that had fallen off his nightstand the other day, wedged in between the bed and one of the table's legs. He snatched the magazine from its spot and stuffed it underneath the mattress.

One more quick survey around the room confirmed that he had indeed hidden everything that needed to be hidden, so Yuri finally opened the door and let Layla inside.

* * *

"Sorry about that," Yuri apologized when he opened the door.

Though truthfully a little annoyed by the wait, Layla shrugged her shoulders and entered the room, closing the door behind her. "No problem. I didn't mind."

Layla glanced around the room – his room – and involuntarily bit her lip, realizing it was the first time she had ever entered a single man's bedroom that wasn't her father's. She wasn't sure what she expected, but it wasn't much different than hers at home. Of course it was smaller, and the furniture and décor leaned more masculine in style… She frowned as her eyes landed on the bed, which looked like it had been recently been slept in. Yuri was apparently not in the habit of making up his bed when he woke up in the morning.

"I wonder how many girls he's screwed on that bed," she mused to herself, a dangerous thought she immediately pushed out of her mind. After all, what Yuri did with other women was none of her business.

"Layla? Something wrong?"

Brought out of her head by his voice, she shook her head and walked over to where Yuri stood, crushing her lips against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He seemed surprised at first by her sudden boldness, but he soon returned her kiss with equal fervor, one hand finding its way up the back of her shirt while the other caressed her butt through the fabric of her skirt.

Still kissing him, she subtly pushed Yuri back toward the bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, and Layla positioned herself in between his legs. While he fumbled with the tiny buttons of his shirt, she reached for the hem of her blouse and pulled it over her head, revealing the lacy black bra she wore underneath. Yuri sucked in a sharp breath at the sight.

Layla bent down to kiss him once again, helping Yuri out of his shirt and tossing it on the floor. His hands roamed up her back until they found the closure of her bra. With practiced ease, he unhooked the clasp, releasing her breasts from their confines. His hands then moved down to rest on her hips, pulling Layla closer toward him and taking a pert, pink nipple into his mouth.

A moan escaped Layla's lips, and her fingers lightly dug into Yuri's bare shoulders. Already, she felt the wetness in between her legs returning, a fact made clear to Yuri as well when his right hand disappeared underneath the skirt she still wore. Once again, he slipped a finger inside of her, touching her in the way he knew she liked from his earlier experimentation. Layla's head rolled back, closing her eyes as she lost herself in the sensation.

His mouth continued to lavish attention of her breasts. Kissing, licking, sucking – even some very light biting, his teeth just barely grazing her skin. After a while, his other hand joined in the fun as well, caressing and tweaking her hard nipples.

Soon, Layla felt herself on the brink of climax.

"Pants off," she demanded, pulling Yuri's face away from her chest and forcing him to look up at her. "Now."

She didn't have to ask him twice. Standing up, he pulled a condom from his pocket, which he handed to Layla, then he quickly divested himself of his jeans and boxer briefs, Layla doing the same with her skirt. When they were both fully naked, she tore open the foil package and slid the condom onto his erect penis. After Yuri sat back down, Layla straddled him and began grinding her hips against his pelvis.

It didn't take long for her to orgasm thanks to his earlier ministrations, but Yuri had yet to come. He flipped Layla onto her back, pinning her underneath him, and kissed her deeply. Moaning, she wrapped her long legs around his hips and held onto his neck as he plowed inside of her. He was being a little rough, only really concerning himself with his own pleasure after focusing so much on hers for most of the session, but she didn't mind.

A couple of minutes later, he finally came, his body shuddering in ecstasy before collapsing on top of her. He stayed there for several minutes, his heavy breaths echoing in her ear, until Layla glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand and saw what time it was.

"It's already seven?" she exclaimed, pushing Yuri off of her.

Layla sat back up and started gathering her scattered clothing from the floor. She hadn't intended to stay so late!

As she passed by Yuri's side of the bed to grab her bra, he reached out for her arm. "Hey, no need to rush out of here," he said, rolling on his side. "Why not spend the night? I don't mind."

But she did. Though Layla was tempted by his offer, she knew that staying over would only set a bad precedent. Girlfriends spent the night, not "friends with benefits". If their arrangement was to be successful, she couldn't allow such a blurring of lines.

"Macquarie is expecting me home for dinner," Layla said, putting her bra back on. "She's probably getting worried as it is… Where are my panties?"

Yuri smirked. "The balcony. Remember?"

"Oh…right." To hide the blush she felt coming to her cheeks at the memory, Layla tugged her shirt over her head. "Anyway, I need to get going."

"I'll drive you back, then," he offered, reaching for his rumpled jeans on the floor.

"That's not necessary, Yuri. I can just call a cab to pick me up," she said, pulling her skirt over her hips.

"I thought you said you were running late. Waiting for a cab will just make you even later," he pointed out. "Let me take you home, Layla. It's no problem. I was thinking of getting take-out for dinner, anyway."

"Well…" He made a good point, and if he was going out again, regardless… Besides, Yuri had dropped her off at her house plenty of times before; there was nothing inherently romantic about a friend offering another friend a ride home. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

A few minutes later, after Layla had retrieved her missing panties from the balcony and Yuri had finished getting dressed again, they were back on the road. The ride from his apartment building to her house was spent mostly in silence, broken only by the sound of the radio playing old 70s rock. During one particular song, Yuri turned up the volume and started tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the beat as he sang along, his voice slightly off-tune.

The next Sarah Dupont, he was not.

Layla hid a smile behind her hand, reminded of that night in Paris when Yuri, drunk out of his mind on champagne, had sung "I'm Too Sexy" while performing a striptease for her.

"Oh, sorry," he said mid-verse, noticing that his singing had caught Layla's attention. "I just really love this song. It's one of my all-time favorites."

"No, it's fine," she assured him. "What is it called? I like it."

"'Dream On' by Aerosmith. I have the CD, if you want to borrow it." He nodded his head toward the glove compartment in front of her. "It should be in there, I think."

Layla opened the glove compartment and pulled out the stack of jewel cases she found inside. Queen, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones… She paused when she saw an Eric Clapton CD, flipping it over to read the track listing on the back.

"'Layla' is a great song, too," Yuri said, guessing what track she was searching for.

Layla, flustered by the way it seemed like he had read her mind, shoved the CDs back into the glove compartment and shut it close. "The Aerosmith CD wasn't in there."

"Huh. Must be at home, then. I can bring it to you tomorrow."

"No, you don't have to do that. I don't listen to CDs very often anyway," she said, noticing that Yuri's car was pulling up to the front of her house. "Thanks again for the ride."

"No problem. See you tomorrow."

DISCLAIMER: _Kaleido Star_ doesn't belong to me.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I've been trying to keep up a once-a-month posting schedule with this story, so I just want to warn you that Chapter Five might take a little longer, depending if I decide to keep the original chapter or just skip onto the next (which is already written for the most part). The original Ch. 5 is kind of filler-y and not strictly necessary, but I want to try to make it work if I can. We'll see. Thanks to everybody who has been reading so far. It's nice to see that there are still some _Kaleido Star_ fans still out there!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

It didn't take long for Yuri and Layla to fall into a routine of sorts. Whenever one of them was in the mood, they would simply knock on the door to the other's dressing room, no explanation needed. Sometimes they would do it there, but, more often than not, if it was after the show, they usually ended up going to Yuri's apartment instead, where they had plenty of privacy and wouldn't have to worry about being caught. They had already had a couple of close calls as it was – not even including Ken Robbins, who so far had kept to his word to keep quiet about what he saw that day in the gym.

If Mr. Hamilton discovered he was screwing his daughter… Well, Yuri had no desire to find out what would happen in such an event.

He really was playing with fire. One wrong move, one slip of the tongue, and everything he had worked so hard for these past ten years would be for nothing, his dream of revenge ruined. Yuri knew that, yet somehow it didn't stop him from knocking on Layla's door, his hormones once again winning out against his better sense.

"Ready to leave?" Layla asked when she opened the door, already changed out of her Rapunzel costume and into a polka-dot print dress.

"Whenever you are."

"Let's go, then."

She closed the door behind her and followed Yuri out to his car in the parking lot, the two of them keeping a respectable distance between them. As far as anybody knew, Yuri was just giving Layla a ride home, as he had done plenty of times in the past. Nothing out of the ordinary.

As usual, they didn't say much on the drive to his apartment, Layla only mentioning a couple of small changes she wanted to make to their trapeze act in _Rapunzel_. Yuri nodded his agreement but admittedly wasn't paying much attention due to Layla's hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

The moment they were finally behind closed doors, they began kissing, Yuri guiding Layla in the direction of his bedroom. There was no need to pretend that it was anything than what it was. The two of them stripped out of their clothes and tumbled into his unmade bed, hands stroking each other's bodies as they devoured each other's mouths.

By that point in their "arrangement", Yuri knew Layla's body well enough to know the best ways to bring her to orgasm. Penetration was rarely enough on its own. He slid his fingers down her stomach, aiming for in between her legs, but to his mild surprise, she reached for his wrist and brought his hand back up to her chest.

His thumb traced circles around her nipple. "Tell me what you want, Layla," he said, his lips leaving hers as he trailed kisses along her jawline. He would let her take the lead this time.

"Your tongue." Layla let out a small gasp as he licked the shell of her ear, her fingers roaming upwards to tangle in his hair. "I want your head in between my thighs," she continued in a breathless voice, "and I want you to fuck me with your mouth until I scream."

Yuri pulled back a little, raising an eyebrow at her use of such vulgar language, so contrary to the ladylike image she portrayed to the world, but he couldn't deny it was a definite turn-on. As Layla spread her legs in invitation, he climbed in between them and smirked, his eyes drinking in the sight of her completely exposed. "That can be arranged."

He started at her sternum, lightly kissing the valley between her breasts. Layla let go of her hold on his neck and raised her arms above her head, taking long, relaxing breaths as Yuri's mouth took its time moving downward. He intended to draw out the anticipation for as long as possible, teasing her until she begged for release.

"Yuri…" she moaned, her breaths becoming heavier as his lips neared her navel. Her hands once again tangled in his hair, attempting to push him even lower.

Yuri smiled, flicking his tongue over her belly-button in preview of what was to come. Layla let out a sound between a gasp and a cry, her hips bucking a little underneath him.

He took that as a sign that she was ready and started shifting down when Layla suddenly let go of his hair and jerked into a half-sitting position, propping herself on her elbows.

"What was that?"

Yuri continued what he was doing. "What…was…what?" he asked between kisses down Layla's flat abdomen, pretending he hadn't heard the faint ringing noise that had caught her attention.

"I think you have a visitor," she said. "Shouldn't you go see who it is?'

"Just ignore it. I'm not expecting anyone. They'll go away eventually."

"But, Yuri…"

Attempting to distract her, Yuri turned his attention to her raised knee, landing open-mouthed kisses along the inside of her thigh, but it was clear the previous mood between them was broken, Layla barely reacting to his touch. To be honest, the ringing was beginning to annoy him as well.

"Damn, they are persistent. Get a freakin' clue already!"

"Yuri, just go answer it," Layla said. "I don't think they plan to leave until you do.

"Fine," he huffed, climbing off of bed and grabbing his discarded jeans from the floor. "I'll be back in a minute. Don't move."

Yuri pulled his jeans back on and zipped up his fly just before pushing the correct button on his intercom in the living room. Though he was prepared to give whoever it was a piece of his mind, he froze in shock when the image of an attractive forty-something woman – although she insisted she was "only thirty-nine" – appeared on the screen.

"Took you long enough to answer, Yuri. Were you sleeping?" the woman asked with just the faintest trace of a Russian accent.

"Uh, yeah…" Yuri lied, still trying to wrap his head around her sudden presence in Cape Mary. He blinked a couple of times, wondering if he was dreaming. "Mama?"

"Don't just stand there, staring. Aren't you going to buzz me in?"

"Right. Of course. Sorry." Finally pulling himself out of his stupor, Yuri hit the button that would allow her to enter the building and opened the door to wait for her.

A couple of minutes later, his mother arrived at his threshold, carrying a canvas bag full of groceries on one arm and lugging a large designer suitcase with the other. She beamed when she saw him, and Yuri stepped forward to help her with the suitcase. "Sorry again for taking so long to answer," he apologized, showing her inside the apartment. "I just wasn't expecting you." His mother lived most of the time in New York, although she often traveled around the world for her work.

"That's why it's called a surprise. I came to Los Angeles on business and thought I would take the opportunity to visit my only son while I was in the area." After setting the bag of groceries on the coffee table, she kissed Yuri on the cheek. "How are you, Yurochka? You haven't been returning my calls lately."

"Yeah, I'm sorry..." Yuri rubbed the back of his neck, ashamed to admit he had been ignoring her phone calls. Not really on purpose. The issue was due to the three hour time difference, she tended to call him when he was having sex with Layla, so he always turned off his cell. By the time he took Layla home and checked his messages, it was usually too late to be polite and return the call. "I meant to call you back. I've just been…busy."

His mother frowned, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "You haven't been working too hard, have you? Your job is so dangerous. It's not good if you are tired."

"I'm fine, Mama," he said. "What about you? Anything new to report in your life?"

She plopped down on the couch. "I broke up with Oleg," she announced, referring to her on-again/off-again live-in boyfriend for the past severalyears.

Yuri resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The two of them broke up so often that it wasn't even a surprise anymore. Every time it was the same old story. "Again? Mama, if you don't want to marry him, then cut the poor guy loose for good and put him out of his misery. How many times have you rejected his proposal now?"

"Oh, I don't even know anymore. I think this was the fifth or sixth time?" She sighed, rubbing her left temple. "Why must that man always insist on ruining a good thing? We already lived together. Wasn't that good enough?"

"You love him, though," Yuri said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know you do, and I don't think Papa would mind if you got married again, if that is what is holding you back from saying 'yes'. You deserve to be happy."

She reached over and patted his hand. "Oh, Yurochka…"

At that moment, the door to his bedroom opened, Yuri's eyes widening as he realized in all the excitement that he had completely forgotten about Layla. She came out dressed only in his vintage Van Halen T-shirt, which was just long enough to cover the important parts…if she stood still and didn't raise her arms too high.

"Yuri, what is taking so long? You said – Oh!" Upon seeing his mother on the couch, Layla tugged at the hem and blushed.

Yuri silently cursed his bad luck as his mother stood up and turned around to face Layla, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Ah, it seems I came at a bad time," his mother said. "I didn't realize Yuri was entertaining a guest."

"Oh, no, we…"

"Yuri, are you going to introduce us?"

"Right." Composing himself, he said, "Mama, I'd like you to meet Layla. She's my…uh, partner at Kaleido Stage. Layla, this is my mother. She's in town for a few days and decided to visit."

Layla stepped forward and offered her hand, having collected herself as well. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Killian," she said. There was a momentary look of confusion on his mother's part at the use of her maiden name, but fortunately, Layla didn't seem to notice. "I apologize for my appearance. I wasn't expecting anybody else to be here."

His mother smiled warmly, taking Layla's hand. "No, I'm the one who must apologize. I showed up without calling first. And please, feel free to call me Elena." Turning to Yuri, she asked, "Why didn't you tell me you had a girlfriend?"

"She's not –" he began, but Layla interrupted.

"That would be my fault. Our relationship isn't exactly…public, for various reasons," she said. "We haven't told anybody about it, so please don't blame Yuri for keeping me a secret."

Yuri ran a hand through his hair. What in the world was Layla doing, telling his mother that they were dating? She would have understood if they just told her the truth. She wasn't the judgmental type.

"I see. Well, if that is the case, my lips are sealed," his mother promised, picking up her bag of groceries. "I thought I would make some _solyanka_ for dinner tonight. Layla, you will join us? There will be plenty to go around."

"I wouldn't want to impose. I'm sure you and Yuri have a lot to catch up on," Layla replied, much to Yuri's relief. The less time Layla and his mother spent together, the better, as far as he was concerned.

His mother had other ideas. "It's no imposition at all. In fact, I insist!" she said. "Yurochka, where is your kitchen? I should get started."

With a sigh, Yuri took the bag from his mother and slung it over his shoulder. "Here, I'll help you. You don't know where everything is," he said, heading for the kitchen. Looking back, he said, "Layla, you should get dressed and let Macquarie know you won't be home for dinner." It was clear that they wouldn't be able to resume where they left off.

"Okay."

In the kitchen, Yuri set the bag on the island, letting his mother unpack the groceries while he pulled out a large soup pot, a skillet, and the other utensils he knew she would need. When he was a kid, he had often helped her make her famous _solyanka_, so he already knew to fill the pot with ten cups of water and four tablespoons of beef base before bringing it to a boil. He then began shredding the cabbage while his mother expertly chopped the celery.

"Layla seems like a lovely girl," she said. "How long have you been seeing her?"

Yuri frowned, tearing off a leaf of cabbage with more force than necessary. "Look, Mama, there's something I need to tell you about Layla," he said, switching over to Russian. He didn't want to risk Layla understanding what they were saying if she happened to overhear them.

"You sound so serious." She set down her knife, giving Yuri her full attention. "Don't tell me she's pregnant."

"What? No, of course not."

"Oh, thank goodness!" she said, bringing a hand to her chest. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. I'm far too young to be a grandmother."

"Because you're only thirty-nine, right?" he teased, to which she responded by lobbing a piece of celery at him.

"Oh, hush, you." She resumed chopping the celery. "So if she isn't pregnant, then what is it?"

The moment of levity passed. "The thing is… Layla doesn't know."

"Know what, dear?"

"About Papa. About how he died," Yuri said in a low voice. "She doesn't even know that Yuri Killian is a stage name."

Again, his mother stopped what she was doing. "So that's why she called me Mrs. Killian instead of Mrs. Brass. I thought that was strange," she said. "But why keep it a secret? How can you have an honest relationship like that?"

"It's…just better this way."

Pursing her lips, his mother gathered the cabbage and celery they had prepared and dumped it into the boiling water. "I suppose this means you still plan to destroy Kaleido Stage."

Yuri crossed his arms, leaning back against the island. "Mama, can we please not talk about that? You know all we ever do is argue."

"I just don't understand why you are so fixated on revenge. You should be in art school. You used to have such a talent for painting. Doing the trapeze is not your passion. I know it isn't, yet you insist on risking your life every time you go on that stage for the chance to hurt Kalos Eido."

Whirling around, Yuri slapped his palms hard on the marble countertop. "Papa died because of him! He needs to pay!"

"And I don't want you to end up like Papa!" she shouted, her voice cracking as she wiped away a tear with her hand. "Why can't you understand that?"

"Mama…" Walking over to the stove where she stood, Yuri wrapped his arms around his mother's trembling shoulders.

He did understand, but he couldn't quit – not now. Not after what he had done to Sophie. It was too late to back out; he wouldn't let Sophie's death be in vain.

"I've never blamed Kalos," she said in a softer voice than before. "Aaron made his own decision to attempt the Legendary Great Maneuver, knowing how dangerous it would be. It wasn't Kalos's fault."

"But –"

"You're right. Let's not talk about this anymore." She pulled out of his embrace and lowered the heat to a simmer. "Go spend some time with Layla," she said, waving him away. "I have everything under control in here."

* * *

"I won't be home for dinner tonight… Yuri and I are checking out a new restaurant he heard about … No, it's not a date, Macquarie… His original date backed out at the last minute, so he just asked me instead since the reservation was hard to get… Yes, I will be home by nine. I'll see you later. Goodbye, Macquarie."

Sighing, Layla flipped her phone close, unsure if Macquarie actually believed her or not. She was almost certain her loyal maid suspected something was going on between her and Yuri, although she hadn't mentioned anything directly.

She had already changed out of Yuri's T-shirt and back into the much more modest dress she arrived in, so after one more glance in the mirror above his dresser to place her headband back in her hair, she headed back to the living room. Loud voices speaking a foreign language Layla didn't understand – Russian? – caught her attention, coming from the direction of the kitchen.

_Are they arguing?_ Layla wondered. She hoped it wasn't because of her. Yuri's mother had seemed kind enough to her face, but perhaps Elena had only been putting on an act, waiting until they were alone to tell Yuri how she really felt. In any case, it seemed rude to eavesdrop, so Layla decided to go out on the balcony to give them some privacy.

The sun was just beginning to dip into the horizon, the sky painted in a canvas of golden yellows and fiery reds. In the distance, the lights were off at Kaleido Stage since there wasn't a show playing that night, but the tent still made a majestic sight against the backdrop. Layla smiled as she leaned against the railing, a light breeze tousling her hair; Yuri's apartment really did have the best view.

A few minutes later, she heard the glass door slide open, and Yuri joined her on the balcony. He didn't say anything, just came up beside her and gripped the railing so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"Is everything alright, Yuri?" Layla asked after a few moments passed. "I heard you and your mother arguing."

"You did?" Sighing, Yuri relaxed his grip on the railing. "Sorry about that. I didn't realize we were being so loud."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really."

"Oh, okay." Not knowing what else to do – dealing with other people's emotions wasn't her strong point – Layla turned to go back inside, but Yuri's hand reached out for her arm, stopping her.

"You don't have to leave," he said. "I'm okay, really. We have the same damn fight every time we see each other." He chuckled, but there was nothing mirthful about his laugh. "You could say it has become a bit of a family tradition."

"So it wasn't about me?"

"Is that what you thought?"

She shrugged, joining him once again at the railing. "The thought crossed my mind," she admitted. "I didn't make the best first impression, after all."

"Layla, my mother isn't a prude. She knows I have sex."

"Still… I'm sorry I let her believe we are secretly dating. I know it complicates things, but it just seemed…more appropriate than what we really are."

"Fu–?"

Layla gave him a pointed look, stopping him mid-word. "I told you not to call us that, Yuri."

Yuri raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, sorry! I forgot," he said, lowering his arms as he moved closer toward her. "Aren't you being hypocritical, though?" he teased, lightly bumping her elbow. "Just a little while ago, you were begging me to –"

Layla flipped her hair over her shoulder. "That was bedroom talk," she said. "This is public talk."

"I don't see anybody around, do you?" Yuri made a show of looking around. "Nope, it's safe," he said. "But, anyway, it's fine. I don't mind pretending I'm your boyfriend for a few days."

"How long is she staying?"

"I haven't asked yet. I assume at least two or three days, since she's in town on business."

"What kind of job does she have?" she asked, curious. With Elena's stunning looks and fashion sense, Layla assumed she must be a model or an actress – something along those lines.

"She's a celebrity stylist," Yuri said. "Mama has always been into fashion and giving makeovers, so she decided to turn it into a career. She's pretty successful at it, too. Very in demand." He sounded quite proud of her, and Layla smiled.

"I see. Is there anything else I should know?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, turning to his side so that only one elbow remained on the railing.

"I don't know. If we're going to pretend to be dating, we should probably know a little more about each other, right?" She sat down at the patio table, motioning for Yuri to join her. "To make it seem more legitimate?"

"I guess, but I think you already know most of the important stuff about me," he said, straddling the other chair backwards. "You know my birthday. You know my mother's _solyanka_ is my favorite food and that I love 70s rock…"

"What about your childhood? Where did you grow up?"

"L.A., mostly. I was born in Moscow, but we moved to the U.S. when I was still just a baby."

"Just you and your mother?"

There was a brief pause before he answered. "No. Papa, too." Yuri rested his folded arms on the back of the chair, his chin on top. "He was French, though."

"So that's the reason you're fluent in both French and Russian," Layla said. "I always wondered. What does your father do?"

Yuri's eyes darkened. "Layla, don't ask any more questions about my father," he said, his hands clenching into fists. "Don't mention him in front of my mother, either."

"But why? I don't und—"

"Just…don't." His fingers relaxed, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Please, just do me this one favor."

"Okay, if it's that important to you," she promised, frowning. "I won't pry anymore about your father."

But Layla had to admit she was curious as to why he was so reluctant to talk about his father. A divorce? If his parents had broken up on bad terms, that would explain why Yuri wouldn't want to talk about him. She didn't recall seeing a wedding band on Elena's finger, either.

"What about you?" Yuri asked. "What was your childhood like?"

"Lonely," she admitted without thinking. Yuri glanced up, but she looked away, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"Poor little rich girl?" he guessed, although there was nothing derisive or mocking about the tone of his voice.

"I suppose that's one way to put it, yes." Sighing, she placed her hands in her lap. "I…didn't have many friends. None at all, really, except Macquarie."

"Your maid?"

"Pathetic, right?" Layla said, knowing what he must be thinking. "She wasn't my maid back then, of course, although her mother worked for us. I think she forced Macquarie to play with me at first out of pity, but after…" Layla paused, her fingers digging into the skirt of her dress. Just as Yuri hadn't wanted to talk about his father, her mother's illness and subsequent death was still too raw for her to discuss, even so many years later. "Well, things happened, and we eventually became friends."

"Layla…"

At that moment, the glass door slid open, startling both of them.

"Dinner's almost ready," Elena announced, frowning when she saw Yuri. "Yuri, please go put a shirt on. I want this to be a _nice_ dinner."

He rolled his eyes, but there was an affectionate smile on his lips as he pushed himself up from the chair. "Yes, Mama…"

Whatever disagreement they had earlier seemed to be forgotten, Yuri tenderly kissing Elena on her temple before heading to his bedroom to change.

While he was gone, Layla followed Elena back inside and offered to help her set the table, but she wouldn't hear of it, shooing Layla away. So, instead, she took a seat on the couch and waited until Yuri came back out of his room, now dressed in slacks and a navy button-down shirt. Elena nodded her approval of his appearance and told them to come join her at the table.

Though it was only a simple meal of soup and bread, Elena had set the table with what Layla assumed was Yuri's best set of bowls and wine glasses. Three white tapered candles were placed in the middle of the round table, the flickering flames giving off a warm, cozy glow.

"It looks and smells wonderful, M—I mean, Elena," Layla said, taking a seat in the chair Yuri had pulled out her.

Elena smiled. "I do hope you like it. It's one of Yuri's favorites," she said, pouring wine in her and Yuri's glasses.

When she got to Layla's, Yuri reached over and covered the top of the glass. "Mama, Layla is underage. She's only eighteen."

"Oh, right, I forgot you can die for your country at eighteen, but no drinking until you're twenty-one. American laws are so…strange." That didn't stop her from pouring a small amount in Layla's glass anyway when Yuri moved his hand away. "But I won't tell if you won't," she said, giving Layla a conspiratorial wink. After setting the bottle aside, she then held up her own glass. "I'd like to make a toast. To new acquaintances and young love. _Budem zdorovy_!"

Layla exchanged a look with Yuri, but he just shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "You were the one who said we were dating," and held up his own glass. "_Budem zdorovy_!"

"Cheers," she echoed, and the three of them clinked their glasses together.

Layla drank a little of the wine to be polite before setting the glass back down and tasting the soup. She had never eaten _solyanka_ before, but her eyes widened, and she involuntarily moaned as she experienced the complex combination of flavors in her mouth. It was unlike anything else she had ever tasted before, a mix of salty, sour, and spicy that didn't sound appetizing at first, but somehow worked together in harmony.

"Oh, my, this tastes incredible!" Layla said.

Yuri nodded his agreement. "It does. Just like I remember it!"

Elena beamed, basking in the compliments. "Thank you," she said, taking a sip of her wine before turning her attention to Layla. "So, Layla, how long have you and Yuri been dating? I asked him when we were in the kitchen, but I don't believe he ever gave me an answer."

"Oh, um…" She took another bite of the soup, giving herself a few moments to think of an answer. "About six or seven months?" She glanced over at Yuri, who subtly nodded his acceptance of her story, and continued, "Since the International Circus Festival. We were celebrating our win, and one thing led to another…" Her voice trailed off, deciding it best not to make their stories too detailed.

"Of course. It's only natural; Paris _is_ the city of love, after all," Elena said, sighing wistfully. "In fact, I was studying in Paris when I met and fell in love with Yuri's fa—"

Yuri suddenly began coughing.

"Yurochka!"

Alarmed, Elena started to stand, but Yuri held up a hand and took several large gulps of his wine. "I'm fine, Mama," he said once his coughing fit subsided. "Some food just went down the wrong pipe."

"Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry."

Layla stared at Yuri, frowning because even if Elena hadn't noticed, she knew he hadn't been eating anything when he started coughing. He had obviously been faking, but why? Because Elena had mentioned his father? She had more questions than ever, but remembering her promise, she kept them to herself.

"Layla, is something wrong?" Elena asked.

She shook her head. "No, it's nothing," she said, deciding to switch topics to a safer subject. "Yuri mentioned you're a celebrity stylist? That sounds like a fun career. You must meet some interesting people."

"Oh, the stories I could tell! I won't name names, but a couple of years ago, I was getting this one starlet dressed for the Oscars, and…"

That seemed to do the trick. Elena forgot all about trying to pry into Layla's and Yuri's "relationship", gossiping about the celebrities she had worked with in the past for the rest of dinner. Yuri hadn't lied when he said she was successful. It seemed like she had dressed almost every current A-list star, and she had dirt on almost everyone, entertaining Layla and Yuri with stories of torrid affairs, secret drug deals, and botched plastic surgeries. Though Elena didn't name names when telling the more scandalous anecdotes, Layla had her suspicions based on context clues.

"Oh, my, I've been such a – what's the English word? – oh, right, a blabbermouth tonight," Elena said as the dinner winded down. She giggled, finishing off her third glass of wine. "I probably shouldn't have drunk so much. Aaron always complained I talked too – Oops!" She slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening as she looked over at Yuri. "Sorry, Yurochka. I forgot."

Aaron? Was that Yuri's father's name?

"It's getting late," Yuri said, abruptly standing up. "Come on, Layla, I'll drive you home."

"Oh, okay." Layla wiped her mouth with her napkin and stood up as well. "Thank you for the lovely meal, Elena. It was delicious."

"I'm glad you liked it," Elena said, walking them to the door, "but you're not spending the night? Don't feel you have to leave on my account. I don't mind if you stay."

"I can't. My father is expecting me home." A lie, of course. Her father wasn't even in the country at the moment, gone away on another one of his business trips.

"Oh, right. I forgot your relationship is supposed to be a secret."

"I'll be back in about half an hour," Yuri said to his mother in a brusque voice. "You don't need to wait up for me."

* * *

Yuri expected Layla to ask about the mysterious "Aaron" his mother mentioned, but she never did. In fact, she didn't say much of anything at all as he drove her back home, perhaps sensing his anger.

He couldn't believe his mother had let his father's name slip out like that. If Layla discovered he was Aaron Brass's son, his entire plan would be put into jeopardy. Hell, for all he knew, that might have been his mother's goal all along. Considering how much she wanted him to give up his quest for revenge, Yuri wouldn't put it past her to try to sabotage him.

"Dammit," he muttered, running his hand through his hair.

"Yuri, will you slow down?" Layla asked, speaking for the first time since they left his apartment. "You are going to get us both killed if you keep driving like this."

He glanced down at the speedometer, surprised to discover he was going nearly twenty miles per hour over the posted speed limit. "Oh, sorry."

As he decelerated the car down to the legal speed, Yuri drew in a long, deep breath to calm himself. There was no point in getting worked up when all Layla knew at the moment was his father's first name. It was only a small clue; there had to be countless other Aarons out there. As long as she didn't discover his original surname, his secret would be safe.

He hoped.

"What's wrong?" Layla asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"It doesn't seem like nothing to me. Why did you suddenly want to leave? I thought we were having a good time."

"I didn't want to keep you out too late," he lied. "Macquarie is expecting you, right?"

"Not until nine." It was only a little after eight when they left.

"Oh." He hadn't known that. "Well, since we have some time, do you want to pull over somewhere, pick up where we left off?"

"I'm not really in the mood."

Truthfully, neither was he. "I'll just take you home, then."

After dropping Layla off at the Hamilton estate, Yuri drove around the city, killing some time before heading back to his apartment. He hoped by the time he arrived home, his mother would have gone to bed, but no such luck. She stood up from her spot on the couch the second he walked through the door.

"Yurochka…"

Yuri sighed. "I told you that you didn't need to wait up for me, Mama," he said, tossing his keys onto the tray he kept by the door. "I know you must still be on New York time."

"Yuri, I'm sorry. His name just slipped out. You know how I get when I drink too much…"

"Was it really just an accidental slip of the tongue?" he couldn't resist asking. "Or did you mention Papa's name on purpose?"

Her eyes widened. "Of course not. Why would you accuse me of such a thing?"

"Well, you've certainly made no secret that you disapprove of my plans concerning Kaleido Stage," he said bitterly, plopping down on the couch. "If anybody finds out that I'm Aaron Brass's son, everything I've worked for these past few years will be for nothing."

Joining him on the couch, his mother tucked her legs underneath her and rubbed his arm. "I wish you wouldn't say such things," she said. "Look, I know I haven't always been the most supportive of your choice of career or your reasons for pursuing it, but that doesn't mean I'm not proud of everything you've achieved. Your father would be, too, if he was still alive." She sighed. "Oh, how I wish he could have seen you and Layla win at the International Circus Festival. He considered his own win at the Festival one of his greatest accomplishments, so to see you following in his footsteps…"

"You're wrong, Mama." Yuri clawed at the fabric of his pants, his stomach lurching at the memory of that moment. "Papa would have been so disappointed in me."

"Yuri?"

He shook his head. "Never mind," he said, standing up. "I think I'll take a shower, then go to bed. It's been a long day. Make sure to turn off the lights before you go to bed."

"Wait." She reached for his hand, stopping him. "Did something happen at the Festival?"

Yuri inhaled sharply. "I-I don't know what you mean."

"Something's changed in you ever since you won," she said. "At first, I thought I was only imagining things, but –"

"You're being a worrywart, Mama," he said, smiling as he turned back around to face her. "I'm the same as I've always been."

"No, you're not. You used to tell me everything, but I didn't even know you had a girlfriend until today."

"We explained that to you. Layla didn't want –"

"It's not just that." Sighing, his mother rose to her feet and placed her hands on Yuri's cheeks. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" she said, a concerned look in her eyes. "If something happened or if you're in some kind of trouble…"

Yuri glanced off to the side. A part of him wished he could confess to his mother about his involvement in Sophie Oswald's untimely death, but his guilt was his to bear alone. No one could absolve him of the sin he committed that day.

"Mama, I'm fine, really," he said, pulling her hands away from his face and giving them a gentle squeeze. "If I've been…distant lately, it's just because I've been really busy with Kaleido Stage and Layla. That's all."

"If you say so…" Yuri could tell she didn't really believe him, though.

"I'll see you in the morning," he said, kissing her on the forehead. "Good night, Mama."

"Good night, my Yurochka."

* * *

Not expecting her back until nine o'clock, Macquarie was surprised to see Layla home so early. Layla made up a story about Yuri not feeling well and needing to cut their dinner short, then headed upstairs to her bedroom.

No matter what Yuri said in the car, Layla knew something had upset him, and all signs pointed to Elena's mention of Aaron. She was almost positive that Aaron was the father Yuri refused to discuss, but why was he being so secretive about him? Despite her promise, her curiosity was too strong to ignore.

Taking a seat at her computer, Layla pulled up Google and typed the name "Aaron Killian" in the search box. No results were found. To be on the safe side, she did a few more searches, using every possible alternative spelling of Aaron that came to mind: Aron, Arin, Aren, Aarin, Aaren, Arron, Arren, Arrin, Eren, Eron. She even tried Erin, despite that spelling being more popular for girls, but there was nobody with that name with the surname Killian.

"Maybe Aaron's last name is different?" she mused aloud.

Assuming her theory that Elena and Aaron had divorced was correct, it was possible that Elena went back to her maiden name, or she may never have changed her name in the first place. Perhaps Yuri had taken her name as well, as a way of cutting ties with his father. Or maybe Elena and Aaron had never married in the first place and Yuri had been given his mother's name at birth.

Layla frowned and decided to switch tactics, searching for "Elena Killian" instead. Since Elena was such a successful stylist, Layla knew she was bound to get a lot of hits. If she was lucky, maybe she would even come across an interview or a profile that mentioned Aaron.

However, the few sites that came up during her search were all in Russian, and thus, unreadable to her.

"That's strange… She should be mentioned in some fashion magazines, at least."

Layla leaned back in her chair, thinking back to earlier. She had assumed his mother's last name was Killian like Yuri's without question, but Elena had never actually mentioned her surname, had she? Then again, she hadn't corrected Layla when she called her Mrs. Killian either…

In any case, there was no record of Elena Killian on any English website, so that avenue of investigation was blocked as well.

That just left Yuri himself, although Layla was beginning to think Yuri Killian was just a stage name. It wasn't uncommon in their line of work, after all, and it would explain why neither of his parents seemed to share his surname. To check, she typed in Yuri's name. She got lots of hits about his work at Kaleido Stage and a handful of fansites, but as she suspected, nothing from before he joined the company. It was as if Yuri Killian had just suddenly appeared in the world a couple of years ago.

"Dammit."

She sighed, closing out of the browser. She had hit the final dead end. Without knowing Yuri's real name, it was impossible to find out anything more.

DISCLAIMER: Kaleido Star doesn't belong to me.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sorry it's taken a while to update. I've been working on a story for an exchange event in another fandom, so everything else has been on the backburner. I'd love to tell you I'll be back on schedule starting next month, but we're going to be moving sometime in the next few weeks, so everything is up in the air at the moment. Don't worry, though. Even if updates do become sporadic, I fully intend to finish this story (and maybe even write a sequel). I hope you enjoy this longer-than-usual chapter in the meantime!

I have a Tumblr! You can find the info on my profile page.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Yuri awoke the next morning to the aroma of fresh coffee.

Yawning, he padded to the kitchen and found his mother already awake, drinking a cup of coffee at the island. Though Yuri was still a little annoyed at her for what had happened at dinner the night before, he decided to forgive her. Alcohol did have a tendency to loosen her lips, and Layla was unlikely to learn anything damaging with just the knowledge of his father's first name anyway.

"'Morning, Mama," he greeted her, kissing the back of her head. "Did you sleep okay?"

She winced. "Oh, Yurochka, please don't talk so loud," she said, rubbing at her temple. "Mama has a pounding headache."

Yuri rolled his eyes but walked over to the cabinet where he kept his stock of over-the-counter medicine and shook out a couple of aspirin from the bottle. It wasn't the first time he had to deal with one of her hangovers. "Here, take these."

"Bless you!" She popped the pills into her mouth and washed them down with the rest of her coffee. "Next time, remind me that two glasses of wine is my limit."

"Will do."

He prepared himself a bowl of cold cereal while his mother helped herself to another cup of coffee, dumping several spoonfuls of sugar into the Kaleido Stage mug.

"What time do you think you'll be home tonight?" she asked. "I was thinking of making beef stroganoff for dinner."

"Probably around seven, but you don't need to make dinner every night, Mama. You're supposed to be a guest."

"I don't mind. You know I like to cook," she said, leaning against the counter as she took a sip of her coffee. "Will Layla be coming over?"

"No. She already has plans." It was a lie as far as he knew, but Yuri had already decided that he would not invite Layla back to his apartment until after his mother left. The last thing he needed was for her to make any more accidental slip-ups in front of Layla.

"Oh, that's a shame. I was looking forward to getting to know her better, especially since I ended up talking so much about myself last night." She paused, tilting her head to the side. "What about lunch? I'll be finished with my shoot around 1:30. You two should come to L.A. I just heard about this trendy new sushi restaurant. We could go check it out, my treat."

"I don't think we'll have time," Yuri said, frowning. "Why are you so interested in Layla, anyway?" She had never showed much interest in any of his previous girlfriends. Then again, he rarely introduced her to the girls he dated, never feeling the need when he knew the relationship was unlikely to last.

"Is it that strange for a mother to want to get to know her son's girlfriend?"

"No, but –"

"Things seem pretty serious between you two. I don't think you've ever had a relationship last more than a couple of months." She smiled. "I'm so happy for you, Yurochka. It's wonderful that you finally found somebody."

Yuri sighed, swirling his spoon around his bowl without taking a bite. He needed to clear up the awkward situation Layla had put him in. Pretending to be her boyfriend had been fine for a night, but he didn't want his mother to get too invested in the idea of their "relationship". It sounded like she was already becoming attached to Layla.

"Mama… Uh, about that…"

"What is it?"

"Layla isn't actually my girlfriend," he admitted.

His mother's blue eyes widened as she set her mug back down on the counter. "What do you mean? Did you two break up last night?" Walking over to the island where he sat, she cupped his head between her hands, a sympathetic look in her gaze. "Oh, Yurochka…"

Yuri pulled her hands away. "No, what I meant is that she never was my girlfriend in the first place. We just…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, we just sleep together, sometimes. That's all."

"I see." Her face unreadable, she took a seat on the stool beside him. "Why lie to me about it, though? I don't understand."

"Layla didn't want you to think badly of her."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry for lying to you, Mama," he said, reaching over to squeeze one of her hands.

"No, it's fine, it's fine." She pulled her hand from his grasp and frowned. "So, why _aren't_ you two dating?"

After taking a bite of his cereal, Yuri cocked an eyebrow. "What kind of a question is that?"

"A perfectly reasonable one, I think," she said. "I mean, you _are_ in love with her, aren't you?"

He almost choked on his next spoonful, covering his mouth with his hand and coughing. "No, of course not. Why would you even think that?"

His mother smirked, resting her chin on her hand. "I do have eyes, Yuri," she said. "I saw the looks you were giving Layla last night. It reminded me of the way your father used to look at me."

"You're imagining things, Mama." Having lost his appetite, Yuri got up and dumped the rest of his soggy cereal in the garbage. "Layla and I… We're just friends."

"Who sleep together? Oh, Yuri, you know I've always been open-minded, but that just sounds like a recipe for disaster."

She was probably right, but Yuri wasn't about to admit it. "It's fine. We're both satisfied with the arrangement."

"Maybe for now, but –"

He had heard enough.

"I need to get going," he said, placing his dirty bowl in the sink. "I'll see you later, Mama."

* * *

After morning practice, Layla retired to her dressing room, draping herself across the couch as she thought back to her research last night into Yuri's mysterious past. It bothered her more than she liked to admit that he never told her that Yuri Killian was only his stage name.

She wasn't his girlfriend, despite what they led Elena to believe, but weren't they at least close enough friends for her to know something as basic as his legal name? Of course, it was possible that he had legally changed his name to Yuri Killian when he joined Kaleido Stage. She hadn't thought of that possibility, but the point still stood.

She wished she could just ask him about it, but doing so would reveal the fact that she had been investigating into his family. Layla doubted Yuri would be happy if he found out, especially considering how secretive he was about his father, the mysterious Aaron.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Coming!" Layla walked over to the door and opened it, unsurprised to see Yuri standing in the hall. "Oh, hey," she said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Come in."

She didn't need to ask why he had come. As soon as Layla closed the door behind her, Yuri pinned her up against it and kissed her.

Whatever concerns Layla had about Yuri's family secrets flew out of her mind, her body automatically reacting to his touch. It was scary how much she wanted him sometimes, craved him like a drug-addicted junkie looking for a fix. She moaned as his thumb slipped underneath the elastic band of her sports bra, caressing the area of skin just below her breasts, and her fingers grabbed at the hem of his T-shirt, tugging it upwards until Yuri lifted up his arms and allowed her to pull it off of him.

Layla's eyes roamed over his bare torso, her hands slithering over his chest and arms. Yuri placed his hands on the small of her back, pulling her closer toward him, and she embraced him, taking in the musky, masculine scent of his skin. Neither of them had showered after practice, but after performing together for so long, the smell of sweat no longer bothered them. In fact, Layla found it rather a turn-on.

His hands wandered lower, cupping her buttocks. Her arms wrapped securely around his neck, he lifted her up, Layla hooking her legs around his hips as Yuri carried her over to the couch. He set her down, her head propped up by the arm of the sofa, and climbed on top of her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His pelvis grinded against her, letting her feel his growing erection even through the fabric of their pants.

It was all kind of high school – or rather how Layla imagined horny virgin high school couples behaved. She didn't have any personal experience to draw on, having never gone to high school herself. Starting from 7th grade, she had convinced her father to hire her a private tutor to take care of her education so that she could focus more on her acrobatic and dance training. She had found the elite private girls' school her father forced her to attend a bore anyway, so she hadn't considered it much of a sacrifice.

She wondered what Yuri was like in high school. She had a feeling he probably had been _very_ popular with the girls.

Layla uncharacteristically giggled as Yuri's hand slid underneath the fabric of her sports bra, groping her left breast.

"Something funny?" Yuri asked, speaking for the first time since he arrived.

"No, I was just imagining what you were like in high school. I bet you were voted homecoming king."

Yuri smiled. "Well, I went to a performing arts high school, so sports weren't really a thing," he said. "I was nominated for prom king, though."

"You didn't win?"

"No."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "Who knows? I didn't really care anyway. It was just a silly popularity contest," he said, yanking up her bra to expose her breasts.

Layla sighed with pleasure as Yuri bent his head downward and took one of her nipples in his mouth. He continued grinding against her, and she felt a familiar pressure building in between her legs which grew stronger as she moved her hips in rhythm with his. The fabric of her leggings provided just the right amount of friction brushing against her clitoris to send her over the edge.

"Ah!"

With a gasp, she climaxed – not as strongly as when Yuri penetrated her with his cock, finger, or tongue, but still very enjoyable.

It would do…for the first one.

She pushed him off of her, Yuri moving to sit on the other end of the couch while Layla straddled his thighs. She then wrapped her fingers around the fabric of her pink sports bra and finished tugging it over her head, tossing it in the direction of her clothes hamper. It fell in easily, not even touching the rim.

"Impressive," Yuri said.

Layla smirked. "I should say the same thing about you," she teased, looking down at his crotch. His erection was fully visible, straining against the fabric of his pants.

"What do you plan to do about it?" It sounded more like a dare than a question.

"Hmm…" She placed her palm against his chest and slowly slid her hand downward. Yuri sucked in his breath as her fingers brushed against his package, but she didn't stop there, continuing further down his thigh, then travelling back up again until she found his hardness once again. Undoing his fly, Layla slipped her hand inside and rubbed him through his boxer briefs until Yuri could take no more.

Breathing heavily, he pulled her hand away. "Condom."

Layla smiled, giving him a lingering kiss on the lips before climbing off of him and beginning to walk over to her vanity where she kept her stash of condoms. Halfway there, she glanced back over her shoulder at Yuri, pleased to see that his eyes were glued to her backside. She stopped where she was and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her leggings, pulling them downwards and kicking them aside. She then continued toward the vanity, rummaging in the second drawer until she found one of the loose foil packets.

By that time, Yuri had come up behind her, licking the shell of her ear as he reached around and snatched the condom out of her hand. She heard the foil crinkle as he tore the package open, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she placed her palms against the vanity's top and bent forward. Yuri's cock slid inside her with ease as he gripped her hips, entering her from behind.

Her eyes met his in the reflection of the vanity's mirror, a slight smirk on her lips as Yuri began pounding inside her. She had to admit, it was an incredibly erotic sight to watch herself being fucked. Her breasts jiggled with almost every thrust, and she enjoyed the view of Yuri's face over her shoulder, contorting in pleasure.

After a while, one of Yuri's hands left its spot on her hip, moving temporarily to fondle a breast before sliding down her abdomen and in between her legs. Layla moaned when he found her clitoris, his fingertip lightly circling the sensitive nub. She had already been close to climax, but with the addition of his finger, she quickly lost control, her entire body trembling from the force of her orgasm. Though she usually tried not to be too loud whenever they had sex at Kaleido Stage, Layla couldn't stop herself from crying out in ecstasy.

As the waves of bliss finally faded away, she slumped forward, a heavily-breathing Yuri leaning against her back. She hadn't noticed, so consumed by her own orgasm, but he must have come, too. The two of them stayed like that for a long moment until she felt Yuri lift his weight off of her, allowing Layla to stand back up and turn around.

"That was…yeah…" Yuri ran a hand through his hair, at a loss for words.

Layla nodded her agreement. They would definitely have to try doing that again sometime.

Grabbing her white silk robe from the back of her vanity chair, she pushed her arms through the sleeves and loosely tied the belt around her waist. "So, is Elena coming to the show today?" she asked conversationally, sitting down at her vanity and letting her long hair loose from the ponytail it was styled in.

"Nope," Yuri said, pulling his pants back on.

"Oh. Does she have to work late?"

"No."

Layla frowned, twisting around her chair to look at Yuri. She was accustomed to her father not attending her shows due to his hectic work schedule, but why wouldn't Elena come to see Yuri perform if she had the time? "Did you two have another argument?" she asked, making a random guess.

"I wouldn't call it an argument, exactly, but…." Sighing, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and yanked it down. "I told her the truth about us."

"What? Why?"

"Because it was wrong to lie to her."

"Oh." It was tough to argue against that. Layla regretted she had put him in that position in the first place.

"Don't worry, she still likes you," Yuri said, smiling. "In fact, she –"

"What?"

Losing his smile, he shook his head. "No, it's nothing."

Layla was curious to know what he had been about to say, but decided it was probably best not to pry. "You should invite Elena to tomorrow's show as an apology," she suggested instead, turning her attention back to the mirror and reaching for her brush. "It would be a shame if she didn't get to see you on stage before she goes back home, and I should probably apologize to her as well. It was my idea to lie to her, after all."

_Plus, if I talk to her, I might be able to learn more about Aaron,_ she thought, immediately feeling guilty for even thinking it. Still, her curiosity was too great, and if Elena just happened to mention him again…

"She wouldn't come even if I invited her," Yuri finally admitted after a short pause. "Mama doesn't like to watch me perform on the trapeze."

"She doesn't? But why?"

He shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. "She gets scared, I guess, but it's no big deal. I don't mind." He tried to sound nonchalant, but Layla sensed there was more to the story than Yuri was telling her. "She's flaying back to New York tomorrow morning, anyway. I'm driving her to the airport, so I'll probably be little late for practice."

"That's fine. Of course," Layla said.

"Thanks. Anyway, I'm going to work on my Corde Lisse some more, so see you later."

* * *

From his spot in the wings, Yuri glanced out into the audience. It was yet another sold-out performance. The publicity from the kiss had done its job. Today's show would mark the end of six weeks of performances with no signs of closing any time soon. It still annoyed him that the kiss was overshadowing everything else about the production despite him and Layla making changes to better their routines, but it looked like she was going to get her wish of a two-month run after all.

"Do you see her?" Layla asked, coming up behind him and looking over his shoulder.

Though he knew exactly who she was referring to, Yuri played dumb, crossing his arms over his chest. "Who?"

"Elena."

He turned around, frowning. "I told you, she's not coming."

"Yet you still look for her, don't you?" she asked. Letting out a sigh, Layla hugged herself. "I'm the same way, you know. Whenever I know my father is in town, I hope to see him in the audience, but he never comes. Too busy with work, I suppose."

He'd noticed, of course, that Mr. Hamilton never attended any of their shows despite owning the biggest share in Kaleido Stage. Mr. Kenneth, the other major investor, made a point of attending every opening night and sometimes even the occasional random performance, so Mr. Hamilton's lack of appearances stood out even more. Yuri had always wondered why he never came, considering that he always seemed so proud of his daughter in public, but Layla had never brought up the subject herself until that moment. Though she tried to act like it was no big deal, he could tell that her father's continued absences bothered her more than she let on.

"Layla…"

As if on its own volition, his hand started to reach for her. At the last moment, however, Yuri pulled back, coughing into his fist when he saw a stagehand passing by with a part of somebody's costume.

"I was just checking out the crowd. It looks like a good audience," he said. "It's almost time for the show to start. You should get into position."

She nodded. "Let's put on a great show."

While Layla prepared to begin her opening silks routine, Yuri looked one more time out into the audience. He had to admit, it would be nice for his mother to see at least one of his performances, but even if she had wanted to attend, he wouldn't have allowed it. It was far too risky. If Kalos, Sarah, or any of the crew members who had worked at Kaleido Stage from the start recognized her as Aaron Brass's widow, it wouldn't take much for them to connect the dots and realize he was Aaron's son.

He was about to prepare for his own opening number when a woman walking down the aisle to a seat in the fifth row caught his eye, his blood running cold. _No, it couldn't be…_

Her hair was hidden underneath a curly brown wig, and she was wearing the black-framed glasses that she only used when she needed a break from contacts, her face otherwise bare of her ever present make-up, but Yuri still recognized her even through her disguise.

What the hell was his mother doing at Kaleido Stage?

His hand reached for his pocket, Yuri cursing when he remembered that he was already in costume, his phone safely locked away in his dressing room as it usually was during performances. Even if he had his phone on him, his mother had probably already turned hers off so not to be distracted during the show.

It was worth a shot anyway. Ignoring Ken's warning that the show was about to begin – he didn't appear on stage until the third scene, anyway, giving him about a ten minute window – Yuri hurried back to his dressing room and called his mother's number. It rang three times before going to voicemail.

"Dammit!"

He flipped the phone close and slammed it down on the vanity. What on Earth possessed her to come to the show? After his father's death, she couldn't even bear attending a Kaleido Stage performance, claiming the memories too painful for her. The possibility that she might come to today's show never even crossed his mind.

Was it Layla's doing? Had she invited his mother behind his back in some misguided belief that he felt the same that she did?

"Yuri, you're on in five minutes," Ken said, knocking on the door. "Should your understudy prepare to go on instead?"

"No, I'm coming."

Yuri took in a couple of deep breaths, calming himself down. After all, there was nothing he could do about his mother now. At least she had been smart enough to come in disguise. As long as she didn't draw any undue attention to herself, it was unlikely she would be recognized by Kalos or any of the veterans after so many years.

He took a moment to fix his hair, then headed backstage, Ken following after him. "Are you sure you're okay to go on?" the stage manager asked.

"I'm fine," he said with a dismissive wave. "Just needed a bathroom break."

Yuri pushed his concerns out of mind as he took the stage on his ridiculous "horse".

It wasn't his best performance. He missed a couple of cues, hyperaware every time Sarah faced the audience to sing, but he managed to cover them up well enough. Only Layla seemed to notice, asking if he was okay during the short intermission. He insisted he was fine and doubled his efforts to concentrate only on the show during the second half.

After taking their final bows, Yuri grabbed Layla by the wrist. "We need to talk."

"Yuri, wh—"

Without giving her an explanation, Yuri pulled Layla backstage and looked around for somewhere that might provide them with a little privacy. There wasn't really any place like that, though, as the tech crews broke down sets and performers ran through their cool down exercises.

"My dressing room," he decided, as it was closer than hers.

He led her to his room and locked the door behind them, not wanting to risk anyone walking in on their conversation. Layla arched an eyebrow when he turned around to face her.

"You want to go for another round?" she asked, reaching for the hook of her skirt. "I don't mind, but –"

"This has nothing to do with sex," he interrupted. He was hardly in the mood. "Did you have anything to do with that little stunt out there?"

Layla let go of her hold on the skirt, smoothing it back down, and tilted her head to the side. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't act coy. You asked me if I had seen my mother in the audience."

"Elena came to see the show? But I thought you said it scared her to see you perform. That's wonderful. You must be thrilled."

"No, it's n—" He rubbed at his temple. "Never mind. Were you the one who invited her?"

"How could I? I don't have any of her contact information."

"You really had nothing to do with it?"

"Of course not," Layla said, looking at him with a confused expression. "Yuri, is something wrong? Aren't you happy your mother came to see you? I noticed you seemed a bit…distracted on stage."

Yuri sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's…complicated," he said, unable to think of anything else to say without compromising his cover. "Never mind. Don't worry about it. Do you have anyone to drive you home tonight?"

"Yes, I told my driver to pick me up since I assumed you would want to spend some time with Elena."

"Good." One less thing he had to worry about.

"Speaking of which, I should probably get changed before Henry arrives," she said, walking over to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow. Tell Elena goodbye for me, and let her know I'm sorry for lying to her yesterday."

"I will."

Once Layla left, Yuri shut the door behind her and pulled out his phone, hoping that his mother had turned hers back on. Luck was on his side; she answered on the second ring.

"Yurochka! What a –"

"My apartment, twenty minutes," he said. "I'll meet you there."

* * *

The moment she arrived home, Layla headed upstairs to her room and sat down at her computer.

She still didn't know Yuri's birth name, but after he had left her dressing room that afternoon, it occurred to her that she did know some facts that could prove useful in discovering who he really was. The night before he had told her that he grew up in Los Angeles, and today he mentioned he had attended a performing arts high school. Doing some quick calculations based on his birthday, he most likely graduated in 1998. It wasn't a ton to go on, but maybe she would find something.

It helped that Yuri was such an unusual name. It might have been common in Russia where he was born, but it definitely stood out as unique in America. Hopefully, he had only changed his surname.

She pulled up Google and typed the keywords "Yuri", "Los Angeles, California", "class of 1998", and the name of the most prestigious performing arts school in L.A. into the search box. Some results came up, but her triumph was short-lived when she realized that they all referred to a female Japanese-American violinist.

Layla wasn't ready to give up, though. There were several performing arts high schools in the Los Angeles area; he may have attended one of those instead. She performed a quick search for a list of school names and plugged them into her previous inquiry.

"Bingo!"

The third school she tried provided the result she was looking for. She clicked on a link to a review of a play the school had put on and smiled at the picture of a teenaged Yuri in costume that accompanied the article. He was incredibly cute even back then. Underneath the photo, the caption read: _Senior Yuri Brass, 17, gives a riveting performance as John Proctor in the school's fall production of "The Crucible"._

"So his real name is Yuri Brass," Layla said to herself, frowning. That name seemed vaguely familiar, although she was certain she had never met Yuri before he joined Kaleido Stage. "Yuri Brass… Brass… Brass… Aaron Brass…"

She gasped, the name ringing a bell. Was it possible…? Kneeling beside her bed, Layla reached underneath until she felt the corner of a box. She pulled the box out and took a seat on the edge of the mattress, lifting up the lid to see inside.

The box contained all of her most treasured mementos, among them an old Kaleido Stage program for a production of _Alice in Wonderland_. It was the first Kaleido Stage show she ever saw, the one that inspired her dream to become a Kaleido Star, just like her idol Donna Walker, who had played the title role.

Layla quickly found the program and flipped to the cast list. Sure enough, Aaron Brass was listed right underneath Donna's name. Yuri favored his mother more in looks, but it wasn't hard to see a family resemblance between him and the man pictured next to the name.

"Yuri's father is THE Aaron Brass?"

She couldn't believe it. Though her attention had been mostly held by Donna during the show, she remembered Aaron in the role of the White Rabbit. He had been amazing as well, so strong and powerful with a natural charisma that reminded her of Yuri.

No wonder Yuri had decided to use a stage name when he joined Kaleido Stage. It would be tough to live up to Aaron Brass's legacy. He had been one of best trapeze artists in the world, a former International Circus Festival winner, and the very first Kaleido Star – not to mention, one of the original founders.

But…

Layla set the program aside, bringing a hand to her mouth.

Aaron Brass had died shortly after the production ended under mysterious circumstances. No official cause of death was ever released, although the most common rumor was that he fell while attempting an incredibly dangerous, mystical maneuver.

"Oh, Yuri…"

It made sense now, why he didn't like talking about his father and why his mother had avoided attending Yuri's shows until tonight. Sighing, Layla drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees. Poor Yuri. She knew very well the pain of losing a parent. Not a day went by when she didn't think of her late mother, the ache dulled by time, but never forgotten.

If only she had known… Layla shook her head. What was she even thinking? Her relationship with Yuri wasn't like that. They were physically intimate, but that was all. It wasn't as if she had been open about her mother's death either, so she couldn't blame him for not confiding in her. She really should have respected Yuri's wishes in the first place and not gone digging into things that weren't any of her business.

After putting the program back in the box, Layla slid it back under her bed. She would just have to do her best to forget about everything she had learned.

* * *

His mother arrived back at the apartment ten minutes after Yuri. She let herself in with the emergency key he had loaned her, carrying a couple of bags. Though she had taken off her wig and glasses, her face was still bare of make-up, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

"Sorry I'm late," she said breezily, heading straight to the kitchen. "I ran to the store to pick up some last-minute things for dinner and it took forever to find a ca—"

Yuri followed after her. "Did anybody recognize you?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

"At the grocery store?" She laughed as she began unloading the contents of one of the bags onto the island. "I dress celebrities for a living, Yurochka. That doesn't mean I am one. Well, unless one of the cable networks wants to give me my own show…"

"No, at Kaleido Stage," he said, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter.

"Ah." She set a bottle of wine down on the island. "So, you saw through my disguise," she said, not even trying to deny it.

"Mama, you knew how risky that was! If anybody recognized you…"

"But they didn't! I walked right in front of Kalos Eido and he didn't even give me a second look."

"Kalos saw you?" Yuri took a seat at the island, rubbing at his forehead.

"I told you, he had no idea who I was. It's been years since we last saw each other. I wouldn't be surprised if he forgot what I even look like."

"That's not the point, Mama!" he shouted, unable to contain his anger any longer. "What if he had remembered? Or Sarah? Or Jean?"

"Yurochka…" Coming up behind him, his mother moved to wrap her arms around his shoulders, but Yuri shrugged her off.

"Don't." He stood up, the legs of the stool scraping against the hardwood floor. "I need some air," he said, too furious to talk to her at the moment.

Yuri left the kitchen and headed out to the balcony. The night air was surprisingly chilly for summer, a light breeze tousling his hair. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, staring up at the starry sky above.

After a while, he heard the sound of the slider opening behind him, his mother joining him out on the balcony. She came up beside him, leaning against the railing, neither of them speaking until she decided to break the ice.

"For the record, it really was a wonderful show," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Don't lie, Mama. The show's crap, and everybody knows it." Yuri sighed. "If I could have chosen a show for you to come see, it would have been _Romeo & Juliet_."

"No, I don't like tragedies. I've experienced enough in my life. Give me a 'happy ever after' any day."

Yuri turned his head, kissing the top of her hair. That was true enough. His anger from earlier had mostly faded away, but there was something he still didn't understand. "Why did you come to tonight's performance? After Papa died…"

His mother's posture straightened, her eyes gazing out at the Kaleido Stage tent in the distance. The lights were still on, a festive sight against the dark sky. "It was too hard, back then, the scars too fresh," she said in a soft voice. "But he loved Kaleido Stage, and I did, too. Your father was never happier than when he was standing on a stage. He was so proud of the company he and Kalos created..."

Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, Yuri feared she would once again try to convince him to give up his plans for revenge, starting yet another round of their never-ending argument. It was her last night in town; he didn't want to spend it fighting even more than they already had.

"You know, I attended your debut performance, too," she revealed instead.

"What?" He looked over at her, his eyes widening. "You never told me that."

"I left during the intermission," she admitted. "I-I got scared, watching you perform such death defying stunts. I was so afraid I would lose you like I lost Aaron."

Yuri reached for her hand, which was gripping the railing so tightly that her knuckles were turning white, and gave it a light squeeze.

"But I promised myself that one day I was going to stay through a full performance," she continued. "I'm glad I finally got the chance. You really did inherit your father's talent."

Shaking his head, Yuri released his hold on her hand. "I'm only a pale imitation of Papa," he said, unable to hide the trace of bitterness in his voice. "When Papa took the stage, nobody could take their eyes off him. Now it's Layla who everyone comes to see."

"There certainly is something special about that girl. She lights up the stage, like she was born to perform in front of an audience."

"Yeah, she does," he said, a soft smile on his face. Even though a small part of him was jealous of Layla's natural talent, she was also an inspiration to him. Yuri doubted he would be the star he was with any other partner at his side.

His mother stared at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you sure you're not in love with her, Yurochka?"

He rolled his eyes. "Not this again. I told you, we're just friends."

"Friends don't kiss the way you did on stage."

"We were acting."

"Your father never kissed any of his co-stars like that," she said. "I would have – what's the American phrase? Slapped him silly, if he had kissed someone like that on the stage."

"It's only a publicity stunt, nothing more," he said, deciding to turn the tables on her. After all, if she wanted to stick her nose in his love life, then hers was fair game as well. "You should say 'yes' to Oleg already."

"Oh, Yurochka…"

"I mean it. Enough time has passed. You deserve your own 'happy ever after'."

Brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his mother sighed. "Maybe next proposal, if I haven't finally scared him off for good."

"The man is crazy in love with you, Mama," Yuri said. "He wouldn't keep coming back and proposing to you if he wasn't. And I know you love him, too."

"You really wouldn't mind? Me getting remarried?"

"Oleg is a good guy, and he makes you happy, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," she said, playing with the pave diamond heart-shaped pendant around her neck. Yuri recognized it as the gift Oleg had given her for her third "thirty-ninth" birthday. "Yeah, he really does. As happy as your father made me."

"Then I don't mind at all," he assured her truthfully.

"I'll think about it," she promised, rising on her toes to kiss Yuri on his cheek. "Thank you, my Yurochka. Now, come back inside. I'll warm up dinner."

DISCLAIMER: Kaleido Star doesn't belong to me.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm so sorry for the long wait. Like I mentioned at the end of the last chapter, I've been busy moving. Good news is, I'm really close to finishing the next chapter, so you won't have to wait so long for the next update. I'll probably post it next month, December at the latest.

Feel free to follow me on Tumblr. My username is kaleidodreams.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

A couple of weeks after Yuri's mother's visit, Kaleido Stage held their annual try-out for new cast members. Though Kalos was the one who ultimately decided who was hired, he had asked Layla and Yuri to sit on the judging panel, along with Sarah.

"A good turn-out this year," Layla commented as the four of them entered the room where the auditions would be held. "More than last year?

"Everybody wants to be the next Layla Hamilton," Kalos said, "especially since you two won the International Circus Festival last year."

Yuri tried not to bristle at the fact that Kalos didn't mention anything about anyone wanting to be the next Yuri Killian. He was used to being treated as an afterthought, after all. Besides, the less competition for his spot as the top male star, the better. Glancing around at the forty or so hopefuls warming up, he was pleased to see that most of the people trying out were women. There was a handful of men, but Yuri doubted they would pose much of a threat.

_Not like Leon Oswald…_ Yuri immediately pushed the thought away, not wanting to be reminded of the lengths he had gone to in order to keep Leon's superior talent undiscovered.

A blond stagehand who Yuri remembered as the one who had accidentally walked in on him and Layla in a compromising position climbed up on stage and blew a whistle, getting everybody's attention. "The auditions are about to begin, so everybody, please take your seats," the young man announced.

The participants stopped what they were doing and sat down on the metal folding chairs provided, along with Yuri, Layla, and Sarah, who had seats reserved for them in the front row.

"Er, welcome to Kaleido Stage's annual audition," the stagehand continued once everybody had settled down. He seemed a little nervous now that he had the group's undivided attention. "I'm Ken Robbins, one of the stagehands, and this man is Kalos Eido, the founder and owner of Kaleido Stage. I'll be assisting him with conducting the audition. Um, Mr. Eido, would you like to say a few words before we begin?"

Kalos joined Ken on stage, clearing his throat as everybody clapped politely. "I wish you all the best of luck. The road to becoming a true Kaleido Star is tough and arduous, and most of you will never achieve it, but today you take the first important step in achieving that dream." He glanced over at Yuri and Layla sitting in the front row. "Speaking of Kaleido Stars, I'd like to introduce you to our current headliners and reigning International Circus Festival trapeze champions, Layla Hamilton and Yuri Killian. They've taken time out of their busy schedules to help judge these auditions."

On cue, Yuri and Layla stood back up and turned around to face the audience. As they bowed, they received a louder round of applause.

"Good luck, everybody!" Yuri called out, slipping into his usual "nice guy" role. He was well aware of the fact that his popularity at Kaleido Stage was due more to his good looks and charisma than his only slightly above-average talent on the trapeze, so he was always careful to maintain his image in front of fans.

From the back of the room, a group of teenage girls shouted, "We love you, Yuri!" Yuri grinned and winked at them before sitting back down with Layla.

"You're such a flirt, Yuri," Layla muttered, crossing her arms.

Yuri arched an eyebrow. He wasn't acting any different than he usually did when he was in the spotlight, playing the fanservice role everyone expected from him. It never bothered her before. "It's just harmless fun," he said. "They have a little crush. I think it's cute."

Back on stage, Ken called for the first participant. "First up will be Piper Tillman. Piper, please come forward."

It was a long day of auditions. As Yuri thought, there wasn't anybody on his and Layla's level, although some had the potential to make a name for themselves at Kaleido Stage. He was particularly impressed by Kira Voronova, an eighteen-year-old Russian juggler who happened to be one of the girls who had called out to him earlier.

Layla leaned toward Yuri. "She's quite good," she said in a low voice.

His eyes focused on Kira's mesmerizing performance on stage, Yuri nodded his agreement. "Yeah, she is."

"Pretty, too."

"I suppose so." Petite Kira wasn't really his type, though. He preferred curvier girls like Layla.

As he continued watching Kira juggle a bunch of knives, Layla reached over and placed a hand on Yuri's upper thigh, her fingers just inches away from the fly of his jeans.

"Layla, what the hell are you doing?" he hissed, using his clipboard to cover his lap. It wasn't like her at all to be so blatant in public.

Even she seemed surprised by her actions. "Oh, sorry," she said, pulling her hand away and sitting up straighter as she turned her attention to the next performer who Ken had called on stage.

An hour later, the try-outs finally ended, and after a short meeting between the judges and Kalos, those who passed the audition were announced. Kalos and Sarah left soon afterward, but Yuri and Layla were quickly surrounded by adoring fans wanting their autographs.

Among them was Kira. "It's such an honor to meet you, Mr. Killian," she said, handing Yuri a 8X10 glossy of himself in his Romeo costume to sign. She spoke excellent English, albeit with a heavy accent. "I'm a huge fan of yours."

Yuri smiled as he signed the photograph. It wasn't often that he got the chance to autograph one of his solo stills. Usually fans gave him pictures of him and Layla together to sign. "Just Yuri is fine," he said, handing the picture back to her. "Congratulations on passing the audition. You were wonderful."

"Thanks!"

Beside him, Layla reached for his elbow. "Yuri, I think it's time to leave," she said. "We do have a show to get ready for."

He glanced down at his watch. "Yeah, you're probably right," he agreed, surprised that it was already so close to show time. Yuri signed one more autograph before apologizing. "Sorry, but that's it for now. We have to run, but I hope you all will stay for today's show."

There were some groans of disappointment from those who hadn't a chance to meet them yet, but with Ken's help, they managed to get away. Upon exiting the auditorium, Layla grabbed Yuri's hand.

"Come with me."

"Hey, where are we going?" Yuri asked as she pulled him in the opposite direction of their dressing rooms.

Layla suddenly stopped in front of a supply closet, opening the door. "In here. Quick."

She entered the closet and pulled Yuri in with her. With his back pressed against the door, she turned the lock.

"Layla, what –"

Before he could even finish asking his question, she kissed him full on the lips. Yuri responded at first, returning her kisses with equal fervor, but when he felt her untuck his shirt from his pants, he pulled back.

"Here?" A supply closet was hardly his idea of an ideal location for sexy times.

Layla unbuckled his belt. "I need you, Yuri."

"Now?" He grabbed her hands, preventing her from unzipping his fly. "The show starts in twenty-five minutes. We don't have time for this."

"It'll just be a quickie."

"Layla, what is going on with you today?" he asked. The Layla he knew would never risk the show beginning late just to have sex.

"I… I don't know," she admitted, lowering her hands back to her sides when he released his hold.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, we can pick this up later, after the show."

"Your dressing room."

"Fine," he agreed, moving to the side to tuck his shirt back in. "You go out first. I'll wait a couple of minutes in case anybody is watching."

"Okay."

As Yuri watched Layla leave, he wondered what had caused her to act like that.

* * *

Upon returning to her dressing room, Layla sat down at her vanity and buried her head in her arms.

"Why did I do that?" she asked herself aloud, mortified by her behavior. It wasn't like her at all.

Was this what it felt like to be jealous? Layla had never really experienced jealousy before. She was beautiful, talented, and rich – there was never a reason to be jealous of someone. Yet just because Yuri showed a little bit of interest in that pretty Russian girl, she had tried to jump him, as if to claim him as hers.

But he wasn't hers. Yuri was free to sleep with whoever he wanted. She had made that perfectly clear when they had started their arrangement, so she had no reason to be upset.

"I'm being ridiculous," she said, raising her head back up. She grabbed her brush and began brushing her long hair, yanking with more force than necessary. "Forget about Yuri and Kira. I have a show to do."

After she changed into her Rapunzel costume, braided her hair, and put on her stage make-up, Layla closed her eyes and went through her usual pre-performance ritual. _I am Rapunzel, I am Rapunzel, I am Rapunzel_. It didn't help as much as it usually did, but it would have to do. The show was about to begin.

Layla headed backstage, her eyes narrowing when she saw Yuri chatting with a certain pretty red-haired juggler in the wings. What was _she_ doing there? Though Kira had passed the audition, it would be a while before the new trainees were allowed on stage.

And Yuri… Her hands clenched at her sides. Yes, she had given him free reign to sleep around, but that didn't mean she wanted to see him flirt with other women right in front of her!

She shook her head. _Calm down, Layla,_ she chided herself. _All they're doing is talking. You're jumping to conclusions, so stop acting like a jealous harpy._

She inhaled a deep breath and relaxed her fingers before walking over to Yuri and Kira. Regardless of any jealousy she may or may not have held toward the juggler, Kira was breaking the rules. Since none of the stagehands wanted to do their jobs, she supposed it was up to her to enforce them.

"Excuse me, but trainees are not allowed backstage," Layla said, tapping the girl's shoulder. "If you're here to watch the show, you need to go find your seat. We're about to begin."

"O-Oh, Miss Layla!" A light blush colored the new girl's cheeks as she turned around. "I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't be back here, but I got lost on my way back from the restroom. I'm afraid I have a terrible sense of direction."

Layla arched an eyebrow. A likely story.

"It's easy to get lost when you don't know your way around this place," Yuri said. "I remember back when I joined Kaleido Stage, I was ten minutes late for my first ballet class because I took a wrong turn and somehow ended up at the cafeteria instead."

"Really?" Kira giggled. "I hope I don't make the same mistake. Maybe you could give me and some of the other girls a tour after the show?"

"Yuri already has plans for later," Layla said, answering for him. "Besides, there should be a map provided in the handbook you were given at the auditions if you need any help finding your way."

"Oh, there is? I didn't realize," she said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Um… I should probably get back to my seat now. Good luck with the show!"

"Was that really necessary, Layla?" Yuri asked once Kira was out of earshot.

"What? Don't tell me you actually believe her excuse about getting lost." Did men lose all their brain cells whenever a pretty girl was involved? She thought Yuri was a shrewder judge of character than that.

"No, of course not. I know she snuck back here on purpose, but I seem to recall a certain blonde trapeze artist doing the same exact thing after our auditions, or have you forgotten?"

"H-How…I mean…That was…" It wasn't often that Layla was struck speechless, but how did he even know about that? She never told a soul about it, and she had been extra careful not to be caught, not wanting to get in trouble right after she achieved her dream of joining Kaleido Stage.

"I saw you, that day," Yuri said, answering her unasked question. "I happened to be leaving the men's room right at the moment you slipped through the door leading backstage."

"Well, that was different," Layla insisted with as much dignity as she could muster. "I kept myself hidden and didn't distract any of the performers from their preparations. I was just curious to see what happened behind the scenes. Kira snuck in specifically to see you."

Yuri frowned. "You don't know –"

"I do. She obviously has a crush on you."

"So what if she does?" he asked with a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. "Is it that big a deal? I have a lot of fans. We both do."

"I know that, but…"

Layla pivoted around and closed her eyes. She had to stop acting like this. Yuri wasn't her boyfriend. What he did with other women wasn't any of her business.

"Layla…" Coming up behind her, Yuri gently placed his hands on her upper arms. "Hey, is something bothering you?" he asked. "You've been acting strange ever since the auditions. Are you je–"

"Oh, Miss Layla, there you are," one of the stagehands said, interrupting Yuri before he could finish asking his question. "We're on in two. You need to get in position."

"I'll be right there," she said, straightening her posture as Yuri released his hold on her arms. "I'm fine," she added in a softer voice that only Yuri could hear. "Just forget about it. We have a show to do."

* * *

After the show, Yuri returned to his dressing room. Layla had yet to arrive. Assuming she planned to stop by her own room to change out of her costume and freshen up before coming over, he decided to take a quick shower while he waited.

As he lathered up, Yuri thought back to what had happened at the auditions and Layla's strange behavior afterwards. If he didn't know any better, he would think that Layla was jealous, but that was ridiculous. While Kira Voronova was a pretty enough girl with some talent, when compared to Layla, there was no contest. Kira was not a threat to her in any way.

Besides, even if he was attracted to Kira, he and Layla were not dating. She made it perfectly clear that he was allowed to sleep with other women if he wanted, so why would she care if Kira had a crush on him?

Sighing, Yuri squeezed a small amount of shampoo in his hand and rubbed it in his wet hair. If Layla _was_ jealous, that could spell trouble for their arrangement. He hadn't slept with anybody else since he agreed to her "friends with benefits" idea, feeling no need to look elsewhere when Layla met almost all his desires, but what if the opportunity arose and he took it? Would Layla honor their agreement, or would she go to Kalos, demanding he be fired?

Maybe this was a sign that it was time for them to end things before things got too complicated…

"Yuri? Are you here?" Layla's voice called out from his dressing room, interrupting his thoughts.

"In the shower!" he shouted back. "Just wait there. I'll be out in a couple of minutes."

Yuri stood under the running water, closing his eyes as he rinsed the shampoo suds out of his hair. He was about to turn off the faucet when he heard the glass door slide open, someone joining him inside the enclosed stall. A pair of familiar arms wrapped around his waist from behind, her bare breasts pressed against his back.

"Mind if I join you?" Layla asked, her lips brushing his shoulder.

She wasn't playing fair. They needed to discuss what had happened earlier, but all the blood had rushed from Yuri's head, making it difficult to think of anything but his sudden arousal. Licking his lips, he swallowed, then pressed his palms against the tiled wall in front of him.

"Well, since you're already here…"

Slowly, Layla's hands wandered lower, finding his erection. Yuri sucked in a breath when she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, sliding her fists up and down in a continuous pumping motion. Over the past couple of months, she had gotten better at giving him handjobs – a lot better. She knew the exact amount of pressure he liked, her hands moving in perfect rhythm and giving ample attention to the head.

"Layla…" His voice shook, his breathing becoming uneven as he felt himself nearing the edge. "Layla, I'm—I'm co—"

She ignored his warning. With a shudder, he climaxed, his seed spilling onto the shower floor and down the drain.

"Layla…"

Layla released his cock and returned her hands to their original position, folding them over his stomach. For a long moment, neither of them said anything more, Yuri struggling to regain his breath as he slumped forward, completely spent.

"I-I'm sorry." She rested her forehead against the back of his neck. "About earlier… I-I don't know what came over me."

"It's fine. I was just surprised, that's all," Yuri said, covering her hands with his own. He took a deep breath before adding, "Are you sure this is still okay with you? Our arrangement?" He didn't _want_ to end it, but if Layla was having second thoughts…

"Of course it is." Layla pulled back, letting go of her embrace, and reached for his washcloth. "Here, let me wash your back for you," she offered, rubbing the soapy washcloth over his shoulder blades. "Has there been anyone else, though? Since we started?"

Her voice was so low, Yuri could barely make out what she was saying over the sound of the water pelting down on him.

"Do you really want to know?"

A short pause followed.

"No. Never mind," she said, and he let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

He wasn't sure why he was so reluctant to answer her. A simple "no" would have gone a long way in tempering her apparent jealousy, assuring Layla that he had no interest in sleeping with Kira Voronova – or anybody else for that matter.

But if he admitted that… Yuri frowned, his mother's question from her last night in town replaying in his head.

_Are you sure you're not in love with her, Yurochka?_

"Yuri?"

The sound of his name startled him. Lost in thought, he had almost forgotten Layla was still there. Her hand reached around to his front side, wiping his chest with the washcloth.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine."

Pushing his mother's words to back of his mind where they belonged, Yuri turned around and took the washcloth from a surprised Layla's hand. He dropped it on the floor with a loud _plop_, then brought his hands to the side of her neck, kissing her.

"Your turn."

He maneuvered them so that Layla was the one under the stream of warm water and he was standing behind her. Yuri wasn't quite up for another round just yet, but he could at least return the favor. He reached over for the bottle of body wash sitting in the niche and squeezed out a generous portion, which he proceeded to rub over Layla's chest and abdomen. A soft moan escaped Layla's lips as Yuri cupped her breasts in his hands.

The body wash made her wet skin slick to the touch. Yuri massaged her chest, enjoying the slippery, soapy sensation he felt as he fondled and jiggled her perfect breasts. Her nipples hardened underneath his touch, and she arched her back against him, her moans becoming louder with desire.

Wordlessly, Layla's hands moved to cover his own. She pulled his right hand away from her breast, letting the water rinse away the remnants of soap that coated it. She then guided his hand downward, in between her slightly parted thighs.

Water was not the greatest lubricant, yet Yuri's fingers were easily able to slip inside her wet folds. While his left hand continued to play with her breasts, his right hand rubbed at her clit, Layla biting down on her bottom lip in an attempt to quiet the whimpers at the back of her throat. It didn't do much good. Tumbling forward, she braced herself against the wall, Yuri's name repeatedly falling from her lips as if she was chanting some sort of spell. He increased his pace, and soon Layla was crying out in ecstasy, her voice echoing off the tiled walls.

"Oh, God, that was amazing," Layla said, turning back around to face Yuri and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Yuri grinned, resting his hands on her hips. "I aim to please," he said, bringing his lips down to hers as the water continued to rain upon them.

Sex – that's all that was between them.

Right?

DISCLAIMER: Kaleido Star doesn't belong to me.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yay, I managed to update on time! With the holidays coming up, I can't make the same promise for next month, but the next chapter is pretty close to done (and I'm super excited about it). If I don't post it next month, it should definitely be up shortly after the new year begins. I promise I have no intention of dropping this! In fact, it looks like it's probably going to be about twelve chapters in all, so we're almost two-thirds through.

Feel free to follow me on Tumblr. My username is kaleidodreams.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Layla smiled at her reflection in the mirror, pleased with her appearance.

Tonight was the anniversary of Kaleido Stage's first show, and, as usual, her father was throwing the company a big party at his hotel to celebrate. Layla typically wore one of the many modest cocktail dresses in her wardrobe to such parties, but tonight she had decided to try out a riskier look. She wore a short, black halter dress with a dramatic plunging neckline that almost reached her navel, and she had piled her long blonde hair on top of her head in a stylishly messy updo. Heavily-rimmed smoky eyes, pale pink lipstick, and lariat-style necklace completed the look, the teardrop-shaped diamond resting in the valley between her breasts.

There was a knock on the door as Layla spritzed some perfume on her wrists and neck. She told whoever it was to come in, unsurprised that it was Macquarie.

"Your father is waiting for you downstairs, Miss Layla," the maid announced, her eyes going wide when she saw Layla's reflection in the mirror. "Oh, my…!"

"Do I look okay?" Layla asked, concerned by Macquarie's reaction. She knew it was a different from her usual style, but perhaps she had taken it a bit too far. "Should I tone down my make-up? Or maybe wear my hair down?"

"N-No, you look gorgeous, Miss Layla," Macquarie said, her cheeks lightly flushed. "Very sexy! I was just surprised, that's all."

"Good. That's just what I'm going for."

Layla sensed that Macquarie was about to say something else, but at the last minute, the maid shook her head. "You should hurry. You know your father doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Of course. I'll be right down."

After slipping on her Manolo Blahnik heels, Layla left her bedroom and headed downstairs. Her father was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase, a disapproving frown on his face when he saw what she was wearing.

At least she had prepared herself for his reaction.

"Layla, isn't that dress a little too…adult for you?" he asked.

Layla resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You do remember I'm going to turn nineteen next week, don't you, Father?" she reminded him. "I _am_ an adult."

"I know. It's just hard to believe sometimes." When she reached the bottom step, he smiled and kissed her cheek. "You look beautiful as always," he said.

"Thank you."

The car ride to the hotel was uneventful, the two of them sitting mostly in silence in the backseat. When they arrived, her father took her by the arm and escorted her to the ballroom where the anniversary party was being held.

Her father had spared no expense, the ballroom beautifully decorated in a stark black-and-white theme that made the red roses used in the flower arrangements seem to pop even more. Half the room was filled with round tables, covered with black silk tablecloths and gold-rimmed china, while the other half had been designated as the dance floor, a handful of couples already twirling to the music of a talented pianist hired as the entertainment for the evening.

As they entered the ballroom, her eyes quickly scanned the vicinity, searching for Yuri. It didn't take long to find him. He was sitting at one of the tables near the dance floor, along with Kira Voronova and a couple of other new recruits whose names she had yet to learn – a fact that caused her to frown. However, the moment Yuri's eyes met hers from across the room, her lips curled up in what she hoped was a seductive smile, and she nodded in silent acknowledgement of him.

"Layla, let's make the rounds first," her father said. "There are some people I'd like you to meet." Which was code for "I invited some big-shot Hollywood directors and producers to the party to try to convince you to become an actress like I want."

Inwardly, Layla sighed. For once, it would nice to attend a party where she didn't have to socialize with complete strangers, but she knew it made her father happy, so she smiled obediently and let him lead her toward a recent Oscar-winning director and his date.

"Of course, Father."

* * *

Yuri initially had not wanted to go to the party. To celebrate the anniversary of Kaleido Stage's opening seemed somehow disrespectful to his father's memory, but as one of the current headliners, he was, of course, expected to attend. If he skipped, he was certain to earn Kalos's ire, so to keep on his enemy's good side, he came, slipping into his usual charming "Yuri Killian" mode as he pretended to make merry with the other performers and crew members in attendance.

Currently, he was chatting with the juggler who had impressed everybody at the audition, Kira Voronova, and a couple of her friends and fellow trainees. He thought their names were Piper and Audrey (or maybe Aubrey?), but he wasn't a hundred percent certain. The three of them made up his unofficial fanclub. He often caught them watching his practices with Layla, giggling and blushing whenever he would flash them an appreciative smile. Yuri wasn't particularly attracted to any of them, but he found their crushes cute, and he had to admit it gave him a bit of an ego boost.

"…and then I couldn't find my –"

Yuri abruptly cut short his sentence, his attention diverted from the conversation by the arrival of Layla and her father.

He sucked in a sharp breath. Layla always looked beautiful no matter what she wore, but tonight she had never looked sexier, dressed in a very low-cut, figure-hugging dress and stiletto heels, a large diamond dangling tantalizingly in between her breasts. He couldn't help but stare, Layla's heavily outlined eyes catching his even halfway across the room. She smiled and nodded to him before Mr. Hamilton pulled her away to talk to a couple Yuri didn't recognize.

"Yuri?" Kira waved her hands in front of his face. "Uh, Earth to Yuri?"

Startled, Yuri turned his attention back to his fangirls. "Oh, sorry, Kira," he apologized. "You were saying?"

She arched a plucked eyebrow. "I wasn't saying anything. You were."

"I was?" He couldn't recall. "Sorry, what were we talking about?"

"You were telling us a story about your first show at Kaleido Stage," Piper said.

"Oh, right," he said, remembering where he had left off. "Anyway, so I couldn't find my costume…"

Yuri continued with the story he was telling, but his eyes kept drifting over to Layla, who was still making the rounds with her father, greeting Kalos and other important investors. She again caught him staring and bit down lightly on her bottom lip, a gesture that always drove him wild with desire.

"Yuuuuuriiiii…"

"Hmm?"

"You're not paying any attention to us," Kira said, following his gaze. "Not that I really blame you." She sighed, fingering the rim of her glass. "I'm not into girls, but even I have to admit Miss Layla looks incredibly hot in that dress."

"You look beautiful tonight, too, Kira," Yuri assured her. He finally tore his eyes away from Layla and smiled at the girls; as sexy as Layla looked, for tonight, they had to be strictly professional. There were too many people around to risk being caught in a compromising position. "You all look great," he added, not wanting the other girls to feel left out.

"You really think so?" Piper asked, patting the back of her elaborate updo. "It's the first time any of us has been to a fancy party like this, so we weren't sure what to wear."

"We spent _hours _getting ready," Audrey (or Aubrey, whatever her name was) admitted.

"Well, it was worth all the effort."

At the front of the ballroom, the pianist began playing a new song. Kira jumped up from her chair. "Oh, I love this song!" she gushed, grabbing Yuri's hands and pulling him out of his seat. "Come on, let's dance!"

"Kira, no fair! I want to dance with Yuri, too."

"Me, three!"

Yuri laughed. "You can all have a turn, but Kira did ask first…"

"Awww…" the two of them chorused in unison as Kira took him by the hand and pulled him to the center of the dance floor.

It wasn't until Kira wrapped her arms around his neck that Yuri realized the song currently playing was a soft, romantic ballad. Sighing, he placed his hands on her hips and tried to keep some distance between them. After the way Layla had reacted after the auditions, he didn't want to give her – or Kira – the wrong idea.

"I'm glad we finally got some time alone together," Kira said.

"Oh?" He glanced over her shoulder, wondering where Layla had gone.

"Did you really mean what you said earlier?"

"About what?"

Frankly, Yuri didn't really remember anything he had said since Layla walked in the room. He really needed to stop thinking about her. It was just a silly dress, after all. He had seen her wearing much, much less many times before.

"You said I looked beautiful tonight," Kira reminded him, a faint blush on her cheeks as she stared up at him. "That wasn't just some line, was it?"

"No, of course not." He had said it without thinking, but Kira did look especially pretty, wearing a dark purple beaded dress, her flaming red hair framing her face in wild curls.

Kira smiled, the space between them becoming smaller as she moved closer toward him. "You look pretty good yourself," she said, her voice lowering an octave. Her hands, which had been wrapped around the back of his neck, traveled downward, skimming the lapels of his jacket, and despite himself, Yuri felt the stirrings of an arousal. "Yuri, there's something I've been wanting to tell you since I joined Kaleido Stage," Kira continued, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. "I think you already know, but I –"

Before she could finish what she wanted to say, however, Layla come up behind her, tapping Kira on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Kira, but do you mind if I cut in?" Layla asked. "I need to talk to Yuri."

With some reluctance, Kira pulled away. "Oh, of course, Miss Layla." Smiling at Yuri, she said, "Thank you for the dance. Maybe I'll see you later?"

"Sure," he agreed, although he planned to avoid her for the rest of the evening if he could. Yuri knew exactly what Kira had been about to tell him, and while he might have been open to it at another time, he wasn't interested in dating anybody as long as he and Layla had their "arrangement".

Kira returned back to the table with her friends as Layla took her place in Yuri's arms. "You two seemed…cozy," Layla remarked. "Is something going on between you and Kira that I should know about?"

"We were just dancing," Yuri said, deciding it best to change the subject. "So, what did you need to talk to me about?"

"Oh…" She averted her eyes. "Nothing, really."

"Layla…" He frowned, his suspicions pretty much confirmed. She _was_ jealous of Kira. "We need to be careful tonight," he reminded her in a low voice. "You know how easily rumors can get started, especially at Kaleido Stage."

"I know, but it would be even more suspicious if we avoided each other the whole night."

She made a good point. They were stage partners and the current headliners of Kaleido Stage; people would expect them to spend at least some time together at the anniversary party. If they didn't, it would only provoke rumors of a different sort.

"Besides, you're the one who keeps staring at me," Layla said with a slight smirk on her lips.

"Everybody is staring at you tonight," Yuri said in his defense. "Your new look is causing quite the commotion."

"Do you like it?"

"You look absolutely amazing."

In fact, it was taking nearly all his willpower to keep his hands on her hips, his fingers itching to explore underneath the stretchy fabric of her dress. Yuri tried to distract himself but that proved difficult to do when Layla bridged the small gap in between them, pressing her body against his. They were so close that he was certain she could feel his growing erection through his pants.

Yuri groaned, one of his hands unwittingly moving to caress her butt. "You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now," he whispered in her ear.

"Oh, I think I do…"

Fortunately – or not, depending on how he looked at it – the music changed to a more up-tempo number, bringing an end to their dance.

"I should probably go mingle some more," Layla said, stepping back and dropping her arms back to her sides. "I'm sure there are more people my father wants me to meet."

"Right." He needed to do the same. Most of Kaleido Stage's biggest sponsors were in attendance, and it couldn't hurt to have them on his side whenever he decided to put his future plans for Kaleido Stage in action. "See you later?"

"I'll be around."

As Yuri watched Layla walk away, her hips swaying from side-to-side, he let out a sigh.

It was going to be a long, frustrating night.

* * *

"Your father certainly knows how to throw a party," Sarah Dupont said. "This is his best one yet!"

Layla nodded her agreement, although privately she thought it was as boring as all her father's other parties. She had attended so many over the years, they all sort of blended together in a blur of half-remembered faces and conversations. "Father wanted to celebrate Kaleido Stage's anniversary in style."

"I'll say he succeeded. Speaking of style…" Sarah gave Layla the once-over. "I'm loving the new look. Who knew the lovely Miss Layla could be so…edgy?" Leaning closer to Layla, she asked in a lowered voice, "Tell me, is it a guy?"

Layla held back a gasp, trying keeping her face impassive. "Pardon?"

"Or is it a girl? It doesn't matter to me if that's the way you swing…"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Layla said, grabbing a glass of punch from a passing waitress.

"Yes, what are you talking about, Sarah?" Yuri asked, joining their conversation. After their dance earlier, he had been careful to approach Layla only when she was in the company of other people, much to her disappointment.

"Layla's love life," Sarah replied. "You wouldn't happen to know who her secret lover is, would you, Yuri?"

"A secret lover? That's news to me." His face only expressed mild surprise, even though Layla felt as if she was about to have a heart attack, wondering if Sarah had somehow uncovered their secret. "As far as I know, Layla has no interest in dating."

"Yuri's right." Recovering fast, she took a sip of her punch and waved her hand dismissively. "Relationships are a distraction. I want to focus only on the stage."

Sarah frowned. "There's more to life than Kaleido Stage, Layla."

"Not for me," she said. "Besides, I've never seen you with a boyfriend, either."

"Oh, well…" A faint blush colored Sarah's cheeks, and she glanced in the direction of a nearby group of men, among them Kalos. "There is somebody I'm interested in, but… Never mind, never mind!"

Layla arched an eyebrow. Was Sarah in love with Kalos, of all people? As the most senior cast member of Kaleido Stage, she did seem to share a closer relationship with the boss than the rest of the troupe…

Before she got a chance to pry further, however, Ken Robbins, one of the stagehands, came up to them. "Sorry to interrupt, Miss Dupont, but Mr. Hamilton is requesting that you sing a few songs for the guests, if you wouldn't mind."

"Oh, I suppose I could perform a song or two," she readily agreed. "Any special requests?"

"How about 'Both Sides Now?" Yuri suggested.

She smiled. "I think that can be arranged."

Ken escorted Sarah to the piano at the front of the room, leaving Layla and Yuri alone together for the first time since their dance. She expected him to excuse himself, as he had done all night, so she was somewhat surprised when he stayed, watching Sarah sing the song he requested with a look Layla couldn't quite read on his face.

"It's a pretty melody, but the lyrics are rather sad, aren't they?" she said.

"Yeah," Yuri said in a hoarse voice. "He loved this song, though." Clearing his throat, he shook his head. "Sorry, I'm acting strange."

"No, it's fine."

Layla started to reach for his hand but thought better of it at the last minute, clenching her fingers into a loose fist at her side. She suspected the "he" Yuri referred to was his late father. Though Yuri looked like he had been enjoying himself at the party, a part of him undoubtedly wished his father was around to celebrate the anniversary of the company he helped build with Kalos.

Maybe she should just admit that she had discovered his secret. It wasn't as if she planned to tell anybody else that Yuri was Aaron Brass's son. He could trust her not to spread gossip; she understood why he wouldn't want to live in Aaron's shadow. Then again, he had specifically asked her not to ask questions about his father. She doubted he would appreciate her snooping into his private life.

"Layla, something wrong?" he asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

"What?" She shook her head. "No, it's nothing. I was just –"

Looking over Yuri's shoulder, Layla let out a small gasp.

Just a few feet away, a handsome waiter was passing out appetizers to Kaleido Stage's head set designer Jean Benigni and the ballet instructor. "Oh, no, why is he here?" she muttered to herself, recognizing him.

Thinking quickly, Layla hid behind a surprised Yuri, her back against his.

"Layla?"

"Don't say my name so loudly," she said, hoping the waiter hadn't overheard. After a few more seconds, she whispered, "Is he still there?"

"Who?"

"The waiter."

"Which one?" he asked, a definite tone of amusement in his voice that annoyed Layla even though she knew Yuri had no possible way of knowing who she was referring to.

"Oh, never mind." Still careful to remain hidden behind Yuri, she turned back around and peeked over his shoulder at the spot where she had seen the man. She sighed, relieved to see that the waiter had disappeared, having moved to another area of the ballroom. "Good, he didn't notice me."

Yuri turned his head, side-eyeing her. "Layla, mind telling me why you're hiding from some waiter? Who is he?"

Layla wondered that herself, trying to remember his name. She was pretty sure that it started with the letter "M". Miguel? Marco? It wasn't Manuel… "Mateo, maybe?"

She hadn't realized she had said that last part aloud until Yuri turned completely around to face her, his eyebrow arched. "You don't remember?"

"No, his name was definitely Mateo," she decided, not wanting Yuri to think badly of her. Besides, the name did ring a bell with her.

"Okay, so why are you hiding from Mateo?"

"Oh…um…" Layla took a sip of her punch, silently cursing Yuri's curiosity. She never asked questions about the French girl she had caught him screwing on the flight back from Paris, so why couldn't he just leave well enough alone? "He's just a guy I once knew. Nobody important, really."

"Oh." She thought that was the end of it, but after a long pause, Yuri lowered his voice and asked, "Did you sleep with him?"

Layla's eyes widened slightly, and she looked down at the drink in her hand, not wanting to confess she had. As far as Yuri knew, he was the only man she had ever been with. After some of the rather judgmental comments she had made about his rumored sex life before, she hated to acknowledge that she was little better than he was.

"I won't judge you if you did," he said, seemingly reading her mind. "It's not like I'm some perfect saint, either."

He smirked, and Layla couldn't resist rolling her eyes. That was an understatement. Still, she was happy to hear that he didn't seem to care about her past…indiscretions, as she tended to refer to them in her mind.

"Just once," she finally admitted, leaning up against a nearby column. "A few weeks after Paris. He was working at an event my father made me attend. The party was boring, and I thought he was cute, so I…" She shrugged her shoulders. "Well, you know how it goes."

"Layla, you don't owe me an explanation."

"I know. I just… It was a mistake, that's all." She took another sip of her drink, wishing it was champagne. "The worst part is that he's an aspiring actor, and I kind of promised him that I would put in a good word with my father."

"Ah. So that's why you were trying to hide," Yuri guessed.

She nodded. "Mateo's a nice guy, but I'd rather avoid crossing paths with him if I can."

"That might be difficult to do. This party isn't that big, and he has to keep moving around the room."

"I know." Layla let out a sigh and set her empty glass on the tray of a nearby passing waiter. Why did Mateo have to get a job at her father's hotel, of all places? She never expected to see him again. "But as long as I stay ale—Crap!"

She spotted him again, holding out a tray to Mr. Kenneth, one of Kaleido Stage's biggest investors. Fortunately, Mateo's back was currently toward her, but if he turned around…

"Kiss me, Yuri."

"Here?" His eyes widened. "But the guests –"

There was no time to care about that now. Layla reached for Yuri's tie and yanked him downwards, crushing his lips against hers just as Mateo pivoted around. She kept one eye on the handsome waiter as she continued kissing Yuri, only pulling back when she saw Mateo returning to the kitchen, apparently not noticing her from their spot behind the column.

"Thanks," she said, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "and, um, sorry about that. It was the only thing I could think of to do."

"I didn't mind." Moving closer, he placed his hands on both sides of her head, palms pressing against the column, and leaned forward so that his mouth was right next to her ear. "Not at all."

"Yuri…"

"That really is one hell of a dress," he said, his eyes roaming to her low-cut neckline. "I bet it would look even better off."

"Yuri, we can't do this here, remember?" Layla whispered, her eyes darting around the room. Fortunately, thanks to Sarah's impromptu concert, nobody was paying much attention to them for the moment, their eyes glued to Kaleido Stage's glamorous diva. Still… "Someone might see us. My _father_ might see us."

"Shall I get us a room, then?" he asked, his lips brushing against her jawline.

A small gasp escaped from Layla's lips, and she started to nod, wanting nothing more than to go somewhere more private and rip off all of Yuri's clothes, but getting a room in her father's hotel didn't seem like the smartest idea, either. Everyone who worked there probably knew who she was. If a maid saw her entering or leaving Yuri's hotel room, there were bound to be rumors.

"I have a better idea."

After making sure that nobody was looking their way, Layla took Yuri by the hand and led him out of the ballroom, taking him down a seldom used hallway. At the end of the hall was an elevator marked "For Private Use Only". Layla paid no mind to the sign, quickly pressing a few numbers on a nearby keypad.

"Where are we going?" Yuri asked as they waited for the elevator.

"The penthouse. My father keeps an apartment here at the hotel for entertaining his business associates."

_And probably some girlfriends_, she silently added. As far as she knew, her father hadn't seriously dated anybody since her mother's death, but she wasn't so naïve to think that he had been living as a priest.

It didn't bother her…much.

"Is that wise? What if he decides he wants to spend the night after the party?"

"He won't," Layla promised. "He already has plans to take the red-eye to London for a business meeting. We'll have the whole place to ourselves." The elevator doors slid open, and Layla stepped inside without hesitation. "Coming, Yuri?"

Yuri paused for a moment, still seeming unsure, but eventually he joined her, moving to stand behind her.

As the doors closed and the elevator started its ascension, Yuri wrapped an arm around Layla's tiny waist, his other hand slipping inside the top of her low-cut dress to fondle her breast. Layla softly moaned, but she didn't protest as he rubbed his thumb over her nipple, playing with it until it was hard.

By that time, the elevator had come to a stop at the top floor of the hotel. Yuri pulled his hand away as the doors slid open, and Layla walked over to a door labeled Penthouse 1. As with the elevator, she was required to input a special PIN on the keypad in order to unlock it. Her father was in the habit of changing the codes every so often, so she sighed in relief when she reached for the doorknob and felt it turn easily in her hand.

She entered the apartment and flipped on the switch beside the door, Yuri right behind her. He let out a low whistle as he took in the impeccably decorated living area.

"Swanky place," he said, walking over to the wall covered in large picture windows to look down at the city nightlife below. "I thought the view from my apartment was great, but this puts it to shame."

"I like the view at your place, Yuri," Layla said, joining him at the window. "It's beautiful."

Yuri glanced over at her, and Layla felt her cheeks warm, wondering why she had said such a thing. Besides, she hadn't brought him up there to enjoy the view, as spectacular as it was. Remembering the real reason why they were there, Layla wrapped her arms around Yuri's neck and kissed him.

"Want to show me the bedroom?" he asked.

Layla nodded and wordlessly led him down the hallway.

DISCLAIMER: Kaleido Star doesn't belong to me.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Haha, sorry to cut things off just when they were getting to the good part, but we'll pick right back up at that point next chapter! Speaking of which, Chapter Nine should be posted soon after the start of the new year if all goes well. Again, the holidays might interfere, so no promises, but that's what I'm aiming for. Thanks for continuing to read!

Feel free to follow me on Tumblr! My username is kaleidodreams.


	9. Chapter 9

NOTE BEFORE READING: This chapter contains some light bondage (as in blindfolds and handcuffs).

Chapter Nine

The penthouse had two bedrooms: the master and a smaller room that was technically "hers", although Layla could probably count on one hand the number of nights she had actually slept in it. She debated for a moment which one they should use, deciding it was probably best just to use the smaller one. The thought of having sex on her father's king-size bed was not the most appealing.

The second the door closed behind them, they began kissing again, Layla reaching up to undo his tie.

"Wait." He took a step back and reached for the loose tie hung around his neck, yanking it off. "May I?" he asked, holding the tie up to Layla's eyes.

Layla nodded, allowing Yuri to blindfold her with the tie. He then placed his hands on her upper arms, gently guiding her backwards. It was alarming at first, not being able to see, but Layla trusted Yuri, following his directions until she felt her back pressed up against a wall. At that point, he began kissing her again, his lips moving from place to place, up and down her body. She never knew where he would go next, and each surprising brush against her skin sent tiny shockwaves through her nerves.

After a while, Yuri reached for the hem of her body-forming dress, pulling it up over her hips and revealing the tiny black thong she wore underneath. His hands grabbed her butt cheeks, and Layla whimpered in anticipation of what he planned to do to her next.

"Yuri…"

Yuri's tongue trailed up her neck. "I want to taste you, Layla," he said in a voice somewhere between a whisper and a growl.

A pleasant shiver travelled up her spine at his words, and Layla nodded, giving her consent.

Yuri fell down to his knees in front of Layla, spreading her legs apart and placing his mouth over the scrap of fabric that covered her entrance. His breath was hot against her, his tongue fighting against the barrier, and a moan escaped Layla's lips as she felt a wetness forming between her thighs.

Slowly – almost too slowly – Yuri ran his hands up her legs, not stopping until they reached the waistband of her thong. He then hooked his thumbs around the thin string and dragged it down to the floor. Layla stepped out of them, kicking them out of the way, and braced herself against the wall as Yuri lifted her left leg and placed it over his shoulder.

Yuri's mouth was in the optimal position to resume what he had started earlier. Layla drew in a sharp gasp as he licked her, more turned on than she ever remembered being in her life.

"Do you like that?" he asked.

Layla could only nod and whimper in response.

His tongue explored deeper inside her – teasing, prodding, swirling. Layla brought a hand to her mouth and lightly bit down on the knuckle of her thumb, fighting back the urge to gasp every time he flicked over one spot in particular. However, it wasn't the most relaxing position, and despite her athletic prowess, Layla's leg soon grew tired of having to hold herself up. Blindly, she reached down and tugged on Yuri's hair, signaling him to stand back up.

Back on his feet, Yuri pulled the blindfold down and kissed Layla, giving her a faint taste of herself from the slick that coated his lips. She could feel his erection pressing against her through the fabric of his slacks. Her hands fumbled to release it, Yuri moaning into her mouth.

Layla knew from previous experience that he usually kept a condom on him. She slid a hand inside his right pocket, happy when her fingers touched the distinctive foil wrapping. She pulled it out and tore open the packaging, rolling the condom onto his erect penis.

Until then, Yuri had been mostly in control of the situation, but Layla decided it was time to turn the tables. She wrapped a hand around his shaft and guided it toward her entrance, skimming his penis against her wet folds a few times before allowing only the head to dip inside to rub against her clitoris.

"Layla, you're killing me here," he groaned, resting his forehead against her shoulder. "Please."

"No. Not yet."

"Please."

"No," she repeated, lightly pushing him away from her. "Now, get out of those clothes and on the bed."

Yuri rolled his eyes, but a smile danced across his lips as he shrugged of his jacket and tossed it aside.

"If I must…"

* * *

Yuri finished stripping out of the rest of his clothes in record time and laid down on the bed as Layla had ordered. He wasn't sure what she had in mind, but it excited him to see her take charge.

Layla, still wearing her dress pulled up over her hips, kicked off her heels and soon joined him, straddling his stomach as she undid the knot of his tie around her neck. Yuri assumed she was going to blindfold him as he had done to her, but was surprised when she wrapped one end of the tie around one of his wrists instead. She then threaded the other end around one of the bars of the brass headboard behind him and tied it around his other wrist so that his hands were pulled above his head.

"Is that too tight for you?" she asked. "I can loosen them if you want."

Yuri yanked against the handmade cuffs, testing them. They were secure, but loose enough that it wouldn't cut off his circulation. "They're fine."

"Good."

She rolled off of him, positioning herself next to him on the bed, and started off with a kiss, a hand pressed against his bare chest. If Layla could feel his heartbeat start to race, she made no mention of it, moving her hand in a slow circle across his skin before roaming downward. Yuri unconsciously held his breath in anticipation, but her touch only went as low as his navel, resting there for a moment before she placed her hand on the other side of the bed and propped herself up.

Her lips left his, and she told him to close his eyes. As he had done to her earlier, Layla began randomly landing soft kisses on various parts of his body – some dangerously close to the spot he wanted her to touch most. Yuri squirmed, wishing he could just grab her head and guide her mouth even lower, but the tie wrapped around his wrists kept them locked firmly in place.

"Layla, please," he begged once again. Her delay tactics were fun at first, but now they were just borderline sadistic.

"Please, what?" she asked, staring down at him as he opened his eyes.

Yuri sighed. "You know what I want."

"I want you to say it."

"Layla…"

She raised an arched eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're embarrassed, Yuri Killian. After everything we've done, _this_ is what makes you blush like a virgin schoolboy?"

"I'm not blushing!" he said, even as he felt his cheeks warm. "Just blow me already, okay?"

"What's the magic word?"

"Oh, for the love of – Please!"

Layla scooted down the bed, and after a second more of hesitation, she bent down and finally took him into her mouth.

Yuri inhaled sharply. It was the first time Layla had ever given him head, but she had a natural talent for it, knowing exactly what spots to focus her attention on to give him the most pleasure. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Mateo the waiter had taught her what to do, but he quickly pushed that thought away, not wanting to know the answer if he had.

Instead, he focused on the strong sensation building inside him, his fingers wrapping around one of the bars of the headboard in lieu of Layla's hair. His breathing grew short and shallow, and he was just on the very edge of coming when Layla abruptly pulled away, causing Yuri to yell out a vulgarity in frustration.

"I swear, Layla –"

"Just a minute," she said, straddling his hips.

Layla reached for the bottom of her dress and yanked it over her head, tossing it aside. Her pink nipples were already hard and erect, and the teardrop diamond that still hung between her breasts sparkled against her skin.

"Wow, you are beautiful," he murmured, wishing he could caress her. He forgot his irritation, drinking in her incredible beauty. "Touch yourself for me."

Doing as she was asked, Layla licked her pointer fingers, then cupped both of her breasts, using her wet fingers to trace circles around her areola. Yuri greatly enjoyed the view, but it wasn't quite what he had in mind.

"No, lower."

"You mean…"

"Yeah," he said, smiling when he saw a rare blush come to Layla's cheeks. He considered it payback for before. "Show me what you do when you're alone."

Hesitantly, she slid her right hand down her flat stomach and in between her legs, inserting a finger inside herself. Her other hand remained on her breast, fondling it, as she fingered herself below.

Yuri stared, completely entranced by the erotic act she was performing – something so personal, no one else had ever seen her do it before. Indeed, after a couple of minutes, he suspected that Layla forgot he was even there, too caught up in her own pleasure to be embarrassed that somebody was watching her. She had closed her eyes, and her breath was coming in short gasps, her plump lips forming into the shape of an "O".

"Stop," he said once he suspected she was close to reaching orgasm.

Layla's eyes fluttered open, her cheeks going flush again when she looked down at him, but she didn't break her gaze, reaching in between her legs once again. That time, however, she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, guiding the tip toward her entrance. She then leaned forward, grabbing the top of the headboard as Yuri slipped inside of her.

Yuri moaned as Layla began grinding against him, her necklace swinging back and forth between her breasts over his face with every thrust. The diamond caught his eye. He attempted to catch it with his mouth, but the movement was too unpredictable for him to get the timing right, so he gave up on the idea and simply enjoyed the view.

Layla started slowly, gradually picking up the pace until they were both breathing heavily in the throes of passion. She came first, sitting up and arching her back as she let out a voiceless scream, but Yuri was soon to follow, bucking his hips as his bound hands strained against the tie. It was often said that good things came to those who waited, and he had to admit in this case it was true, for it was one of the most intense, powerful orgasms he had ever experienced in his life, like a volcano erupting after a long period of dormancy.

"Wow," was all he could say when it was over.

Layla nodded her agreement, climbing off of him and rolling over on her back beside him on the bed.

The two of them stayed like that for several minutes, trying to recapture their breath, until Layla sat back up and reached for her discarded dress on the floor.

"We should probably go back down to the party," she said, shimmying back into the sexy dress. "People will start wondering where we are if we don't."

Yuri would have much rather stayed in bed, fucking Layla until morning, but knew she was right. They had already taken a big risk as it was. "Mind letting me loose?" he asked, tugging on his tie. "I can't exactly get dressed like this.

"Oh, right."

She crawled back onto the bed and fiddled with the knot she had made, cursing under her breath.

"Uh, Layla, you can release me, can't you?"

"I'm trying… Hold on a minute…" she muttered just as they heard a third voice calling out Layla's name from the living room.

They looked at each other in horror, Yuri fighting back the urge to violently swear.

It was Mr. Hamilton.

His career – and his ultimate goal of getting revenge on Kalos – was over.

* * *

_Shit!_

What was her father doing here? He was supposed to be on his way to London right about now.

"Layla, untie me. Now," Yuri ordered in a low, harsh voice.

Her heart pounding and with shaking fingers, somehow Layla managed to untie one of the knots just as her father knocked on the door to the bedroom.

"Layla, are you in there? It's me."

"Uh, coming!" she called out, not knowing what else to say in the situation. Since they had left the light on in the living room, there was no point trying to pretend she wasn't there. "Just a minute."

She helped Yuri gather his clothes from off the floor, then pushed him in the direction of another door on the other side of the room. "Closet," she whispered. "I'll think of something, so don't worry."

He didn't seem so confident, but did as she told him. When she was certain there was nothing else in the room to betray Yuri's presence, Layla smoothed down her dress, took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and finally opened the door.

"Oh, um, hello, Father," she said. "What are you doing here? I thought you would be at the airport by now."

"I'm on my way right now," he replied. "The car is waiting for me out front. I just wanted to say goodbye before I left." He frowned. "Why did you leave the party? As Kaleido Stage's biggest star, you should be a part of the anniversary celebration."

"Oh, I had the most awful splitting headache," she lied, thinking quickly. "I came up here to take some aspirin and rest for a few minutes before going back down, but I must have fallen asleep. I'm sorry. I should have told you, but I didn't expect to be gone so long."

"It's fine. I was worried when I couldn't find you, but I'm glad that's all it was." In a rare gesture of affection, her father brushed a strand of loose hair out of her eyes. "Is your headache any better now? I can walk you back down to the party before I leave."

Guiltily, Layla glanced over her shoulder at the closet. She hated lying to her father any more than necessary, but she couldn't exactly leave Yuri locked in the apartment. He didn't know the necessary codes to escape. "Actually, it's still pretty bad," she said, rubbing at her temple. "I'm not really in a partying mood. Would you mind if I just stayed here for the night?"

"I don't know if I like the idea of you staying here all alone, Layla."

"Father, as I reminded you earlier tonight, I'm almost nineteen years old. I'm not a child anymore. Besides, nobody can get up here without the codes. I'll be completely safe."

"I know, I know…" He sighed, looking down at his fancy Rolex watch. "Fine, I suppose it'll be okay. I really need to get going, though. I'm flying commercial, so the plane won't wait."

"I'll walk you to the elevator."

After saying goodbye to her father, Layla returned to the bedroom to find Yuri sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He was already dressed except for his tie, which she suspected had been ruined by the knots she had made earlier.

"That was too damn close, Layla," he said, looking up when she closed the door behind her. "If your father had caught me in bed with you…"

"I know. I-I'm sorry. I really didn't expect him to come up here."

Yuri sighed and stood back up. "I should get back down to the party. If anybody asks, I'll say you had a headache and decided to leave early."

She nodded. It was a good idea – the smart idea. After the lie she told her father, she couldn't rejoin the party herself. Besides, Mateo was still down there. At least if she stayed in the apartment, she wouldn't need to worry about their paths crossing and the inevitable awkwardness that would occur after their one-night stand. Sending Yuri back down on his own was the best way to quell any rumors that may have arisen if anybody had noticed their absence.

But…

"Wait." She grabbed the sleeve of Yuri's jacket as he brushed past her on the way to the door. "Don't go," Layla said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Stay."

What was she doing? She was acting like a girl begging her boyfriend not to leave her after a huge fight, which was ridiculous because Yuri was most definitely not her boyfriend. She had made that perfectly clear when they started their arrangement.

"Layla…"

Embarrassed, she let go of the grip she had on his sleeve. "Sorry. I don't know – " She shook her head and took in a deep breath to calm herself. "Never mind. You should go back to the party. Come on, I'll get the elevator working for you."

* * *

Yuri reached into his refrigerator and pulled out a can of beer.

It was his second since he woke up thirty minutes ago.

Kalos had shut down Kaleido Stage for the day, giving those who had overindulged at the party last night a chance to recover from their hangovers. Yuri hadn't been one of them, sticking to just one glass of champagne since he was driving, but if he kept up with his current pace, he wouldn't be surprised if he woke up with one tomorrow.

Still dressed in the pajama bottoms he had changed into after he returned from the party, Yuri walked out onto the balcony and pulled back the tab on the can. The mid-August temperature was warm, even so early in the morning, and the cold liquid felt wonderful running down his throat as he took a large gulp.

Sighing, he leaned his forearms against the railing and stared out at Kaleido Stage in the distance, barely noticing the beautiful sunrise.

He had almost forgotten again. His ultimate goal.

He needed to end his arrangement with Layla. It wasn't just the fact that he almost lost his job last night – although that was certainly part of it. Yuri wasn't particularly religious, but he thanked whoever – or whatever – was in charge of such things that Layla had managed to untie that knot just in time, before Mr. Hamilton walked in on them in bed together.

No, what ultimately scared him was that they were only supposed to be "friends with benefits". As long as things stayed purely sexual between them, he thought he would be able to handle it, that it wasn't that big a deal. But…

Yuri squeezed his eyes shut, trying unsuccessfully to block the memory of Layla asking him to stay the night with her, despite it being her rule in the first place that they wouldn't do sleepovers. He suspected that her feelings for him were growing beyond mere "friendship", and if he was completely, one-hundred percent honest with himself –

"Dammit, I'm not in love with Layla Hamilton," he muttered to himself before taking another swig of his beer.

He went back inside and laid down on the couch, setting his half-drunk beer on the coffee table. As much as Yuri hated to admit it, maybe his mother had been right about him having feelings for Layla after all. He hesitated to call it "love", but he did feel _something _toward Layla, something he had never experienced with any other woman.

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. How could he have let this happen? Falling in love…lust…whatever it was he felt toward Layla was not a part of his plan.

* * *

The first thing Layla saw when she woke up was the digital alarm clock on the nightstand.

It read 9:37 in bright red numbers.

She sat up with a start, mentally swearing at Macquarie for letting her sleep in so late. But as she took in her surroundings, Layla realized that she wasn't at home, but at her father's luxury penthouse at the hotel.

"Oh, right, I spent the night," she muttered to herself, memories of what had happened coming back to her.

Sighing, Layla drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Since she didn't keep any of her clothes at the apartment, she had borrowed one of her father's pajama tops to sleep in. It was several sizes too big for her and kept sliding off her shoulder, but she barely noticed, her mind elsewhere.

_I am such an idiot,_ she thought.

It was supposed to be a simple arrangement. No feelings, no commitments... Just two friends sleeping together, no strings attached.

So why was everything suddenly so confusing?

Was it possible that she was falling in love with Yuri? That wasn't supposed to happen. The whole point behind the arrangement was that she _didn't_ want to fall in love. A boyfriend was a distraction Layla didn't need at this point in her life. She needed to concentrate on her career, needed to keep working to become an even bigger Kaleido Star than she already was.

But…

Layla shook her head, refusing to even consider the possibility. Besides, even if she did feel that way about him, that didn't mean Yuri felt the same about her. For all she knew, he had gone back down to the party and found himself another girl to take home last night. Maybe that pretty Russian juggler who was always trying to flirt with him…

No, she needed to end things with Yuri. The arrangement wasn't working anymore.

It was as simple as that.

DISCLAIMER: "Kaleido Star" doesn't belong to me.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hope you enjoyed the new chapter! I really have no idea when I'll be able to post the next one, since I'll be busy the next couple of months working on fics for various challenges. One of those challenges, though, is Kaleido Star Week 2020 over on Tumblr, so you will get at least one new KS fic from me! It's starting February 10th and lasts until the 16th, so if you enjoy creating fan-made content, check out the rules on Tumblr, username: kaleidostarweek2020.

Also, feel free to follow me on my Tumblr! My username is kaleidodreams.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

August 15th.

Today was Layla's 19th birthday, but for her, it was just another ordinary day, one that did not fill her with any joy or excitement. As usual, her father was not home to celebrate it with her. He had left for Venice or Vienna – she couldn't remember which – a couple of days before to check on the construction of his latest hotel and didn't plan to return until Wednesday.

And Yuri… Well, she had mostly been doing her best to avoid him outside of their professional responsibilities ever since Kaleido Stage's anniversary party. They needed to discuss what had happened – she knew that – but every time she considered bringing up the subject, she changed her mind, putting it off for another time.

"Happy birthday, Miss Layla!" Macquarie said when Layla awoke, holding out a beautifully wrapped gift box as she sat up in bed. "A present from you father. He asked me to give it to you as soon as you woke up."

"Oh… Thank you."

Layla took the large box and set it on her lap, reaching for the attached envelope. The message card inside simply read: _Happy birthday, my darling Layla_. She then lifted the lid off the box, unsurprised when she pulled out a beautiful teal-colored cocktail dress.

"How gorgeous!" Macquarie gushed, clapping her hands together. "Your father always has such great taste. You'll look stunning in it."

Layla sighed and folded the dress back in the box before setting it aside. Every year it was the same – a lavish party planned by her father that he never attended and a pretty dress to wear to it.

"Macquarie, did you remember to call the guests and tell them that the party is cancelled?" she asked, slipping on her silk robe as she climbed out of bed. She had learned long ago that her father actually bribed guests to attend her birthday parties. Seeing no value in spending her birthday with people only there out of paid obligation, she cancelled the party every year and spent the day as usual.

"Yes, miss, but, um, I have some news."

"Oh?" Taking a seat at the table where Macquarie had set down the breakfast tray, Layla raised an eyebrow. "What news?"

"Mr. Hamilton called this morning," Macquarie said. "He finished his business earlier than expected, so he booked an earlier flight and will be here later today."

Layla dropped the fork she had been holding, the utensil clattering against the plate. "Father's coming home?"

She didn't even remember the last time she saw her father on her birthday. Maybe the year she turned eight? She had vague memories of him taking her to the zoo, but if she remembered correctly, he got paged halfway through and they had needed to leave in order for him to close an important deal.

"He wants to take you out to dinner after your show tonight," Macquarie said.

"Is he coming to the show, too?"

"He didn't mention anything about that. He just said he would send the car for you around seven."

"Oh."

Layla was momentarily disappointed. Her father had yet to see one of her Kaleido Stage performances through to the end, but that was okay. The fact that he made time in his busy schedule to see her on her birthday was enough to satisfy her. Maybe the day wouldn't be so bad, after all.

Walking back over to her bed, Layla reopened the box and pulled out the teal dress, holding it against her body as she admired her reflection in the mirror. "Well, at least I have a reason to wear my beautiful new dress today…."

* * *

Upon returning to his dressing room after the show and changing out of his costume, Yuri picked up the small wrapped box from his vanity and sighed.

He had bought Layla's birthday present – a bottle of perfume – a couple of weeks ago, but considering how awkward things had been between them ever since what had happened the night of the anniversary party, he questioned if he should still give it to her. After all, he didn't want her to get the wrong idea.

Then again, he had yet to talk to Layla about ending their arrangement. Mostly, he'd been avoiding her whenever they weren't on stage, and though he couldn't be positive, Yuri suspected she was doing the same to him, even having her chauffeur pick her up from Kaleido Stage so she wouldn't have a reason to ask him for a ride home like she usually did.

They couldn't keep on like this. So far, it wasn't affecting their performances – Layla was, as always, the consummate professional – but it was bound to cause issues sooner or later. He needed to end things once and for all.

Perhaps today wasn't the best time to do it, however. He knew Layla had never been one to care much about her birthday, always cancelling the party her father threw for her every year and treating it as just another ordinary day, but it was still crappy timing.

On the other hand, the longer Yuri waited, the more difficult it seemed to approach the subject. He should have talked to Layla the day after the party. Perhaps if he had, they would have been able to avoid the weirdness between them.

Yes, he was going to do it, birthday be damned. There was never going to be a perfect time to end things with Layla; he needed to stop waffling and do it. At least he might be able to soften the blow by giving her the gift first.

Decided, Yuri slipped the small box into the pocket of his black jacket and headed to Layla's dressing room down the hall.

"Coming!" she said when he knocked.

A few moments later, the door opened, Layla's eyes widening slightly when she saw him. "Oh, hello, Yuri…" Her hand clutched at the neckline of her silk robe, holding it closed. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Can I come in?" he asked.

After a short pause, Layla stepped aside, showing him in. "I don't have much time," she said, closing the door behind him. "If you're here for sex, I –"

"No, I wanted –" Yuri glanced over at her neatly made bed and frowned, noticing a pretty teal cocktail dress laying across the bedspread. "Do you have a date tonight?"

"My father's business trip was cut short, so he's taking me out to dinner for my birthday." Walking over to the bed, Layla picked up the dress, holding it up. "I was just about to change when you knocked."

Yuri released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, silently berating himself for being glad that she had plans with her father and not some other guy. What did it matter to him, anyway? He had already decided to end things with Layla

"You can get dressed if you want," he told her, pivoting back around to face the door and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I won't look." Though he had seen her naked plenty of times before, Yuri knew that he would lose all his resolve if he caught a glimpse of her in her so-called "birthday suit".

"Oh…okay."

It took pretty much all of Yuri's willpower to keep staring straight ahead at the door. He tried to take his mind off of what Layla was doing, but it was difficult to do when he could still hear the unzipping of zippers and the rustling of fabric. He never realized just how loud clothing could be! Closing his eyes for good measure, he forced himself to concentrate only on his breathing until Layla said it was okay to look again.

When he turned back around, he found Layla standing in front of him, her dress half-zipped and her long hair pulled over to one shoulder. "I couldn't zip it up all the way," she said. "Would you mind…?"

"Oh. Sure."

Yuri reached for the tiny pull tab and slowly tugged it upward, ignoring the traitorous part of him that wanted to do the exact opposite.

"Thanks." After tossing her hair back, Layla smoothed down the fabric of her dress and turned around to face him. "How do I look?"

"You look…" Several adjectives immediately sprung to mind – among them: beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, incredible – but Yuri decided to play it safe. "…nice. That dress suits you."

And it did. As much as he had loved the sexy black dress she had worn to the anniversary party, her new dress was much more Layla's usual style. Made of taffeta, it featured a ruched bodice with a modest sweetheart neckline and a knee-length A-line skirt that flared from her hips. A thin gold belt and matching high heels completed the look.

Layla smiled at the compliment. "It was a birthday gift from Father."

"Oh, speaking of birthday gifts…" Yuri reached into his pocket and pulled out his present. "Here. This is for you."

"You didn't have to get me anything," she said, accepting the gift. "May I open it?"

"Go ahead."

Layla took a seat at her vanity and tore off the metallic red wrapping paper, revealing the high-end perfume he had bought her. "Oh, thank you, Yuri." She spritzed some on her wrist, bringing it to her nose for a sniff. "It smells wonderful. Is that…jasmine?"

"Yeah. The scent reminded me of you," he admitted, immediately wishing he hadn't when he noticed a faint blush coloring Layla's cheeks in her reflection.

After spraying a little more of the perfume on her neck, she set the pretty bottle down on the vanity and reached for her hairbrush. "Yuri, about the other night…" she began only to be interrupted by another knock.

Yuri's eyes darted toward the door. "Your father?"

"I…don't know." Her brow furrowed, she rose from her seat. "If it is, he's early."

Well, at least he and Layla were both properly dressed this time... As there was nothing scandalous about visiting a co-star to deliver a birthday present, Yuri didn't bother to hide as Layla answered the door. She accepted a large bouquet of white roses from a stagehand whose name Yuri didn't recall and closed the door with her hip.

"Another birthday gift?" he asked as Layla read the accompanying placard.

"Yes, from Mr. Kenneth." She placed the expensive-looking arrangement on the coffee table in front of the couch. "He always sends me roses for my birthday."

Again, relief.

Yuri ran his hand through his hair, sighing in frustration. He was being ridiculous. He had no right to be jealous of imaginary admirers when he wasn't even willing to be Layla's real boyfriend.

"Look, Layla, we need to talk about what happened at the party," he said, rubbing at his forehead. "It's been fun, but I've been thinking –"

"Sorry, but could this wait until tomorrow, Yuri?" Layla asked, interrupting him as she sat back down at the vanity. "My father is going to be here soon, and I still need to do my make-up."

He really didn't want to put if off any longer, postponing the inevitable. The sooner he and Layla ended whatever there was between them, the sooner things could go back to the way they were – the way they frankly should have stayed if only he had listened to his brain and not his dick.

But perhaps her birthday was not the best time to break things off after all. Layla seemed thrilled that her father was home to celebrate with her for once. Yuri didn't want to ruin her good mood.

"Sure, I guess it can wait," he said with a shrug. "Enjoy your dinner, and happy birthday. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

As soon as Yuri closed the door behind him, Layla exhaled, her shoulders relaxing as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

She hadn't lied to him. Her father was scheduled to pick her up in less than fifteen minutes and she really did need to finish getting ready, but mainly, she had just wanted to stop Yuri from saying whatever it was he planned to say.

Although…why had she felt the need to stop him? After all, she had been about to say the same thing before they were interrupted by the delivery of Mr. Kenneth's roses. They both knew the arrangement wasn't working anymore, so it had been silly to keep things in limbo.

_Maybe because you know you love him and don't want to give him up after all,_ a voice said in the back of her mind – the same voice that had taken up permanent residence the morning after the party and refused to keep quiet despite her best efforts to evict it.

Pushing Yuri out of her mind, Layla started putting on her make-up, managing to finish in record time. With only a couple of minutes to spare, she headed to the entrance of Kaleido Stage to wait for her father's car.

Almost everybody else had already left for the night, only a few scattered cars still parked in the parking lot. Yuri's was not among them. He had probably gone home soon after he left her dressing room.

Leaning against a nearby column, Layla rubbed her bare arms. Though it was summer, the breeze coming off the nearby ocean was cooler than she expected. She sighed, hoping her father wouldn't make her wait too long.

She didn't get her wish.

"Where is he? Macquarie did say seven, right?" she muttered to herself, checking the time on her phone.

Her father was only ten minutes late, but she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that he was going to stand her up again. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he backed out of plans he had made with her in order to deal with some business matter that could not wait.

She was about to call Macquarie to double check the time when finally a town car pulled up to the entrance. The driver, a sixty-something man who had worked for the Hamilton family for as long as Layla could remember, exited the car and tipped his hat to her.

"Good evening, Miss Layla, and happy birthday," he said. "I do apologize for my tardiness. Traffic was terrible."

"Oh, that's okay, Henry. I understand."

He opened the back door for her, Layla sliding into the empty backseat, unsurprised, but disappointed, that her father hadn't come. She let out a sigh. She should have known better than to get her hopes –

"Your father will meet you at the restaurant," Henry informed her after getting back into the car. "He said he has a surprise for you."

Layla arched an eyebrow. "A surprise?"

Her father spending time with her on her birthday was already enough of a surprise. She hadn't expected anything else. She wondered what it could be, but Henry insisted he didn't know anything more than that.

A short time later, she arrived at the restaurant. As it was one of her favorites, the maître d' knew her by name, greeting her as soon as stepped inside.

"Ah, good evening, Miss Hamilton. A pleasure to see you again. Your party is waiting for you. Come this way."

Layla followed him to a table in the center of the restaurant, stopping short when she noticed her father was not alone. Sitting next to him at the table was an attractive brunette who looked to be in her late thirties or maybe early forties. The woman was laughing at something her father had said, tucking a strand of her short hair behind her ear in a flirtatious fashion.

Was she the surprise Henry had mentioned?

"Layla!" Having spotted her arrival, her father stood up and kissed her on the cheek. "Happy birthday, sweetheart. You look beautiful. I knew that dress was perfect for you." Though he didn't say it aloud, Layla imagined him thinking, "…much better than that scrap of fabric you wore to the anniversary party."

She smiled, regaining some of her composure. "Thank you, Father. I'm glad you were able to make it home today. I know you must be busy." She sat down in the chair he pulled out for her and accepted a menu.

"Oh, I'd like you to meet Caroline Wagner," he said, sitting back down and introducing his dinner companion. "She's an up-and-coming director in Hollywood. Carrie, this is my daughter Layla."

Caroline offered her hand, a warm smile on her face. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you, Layla. Your father has told me so much about you. Happy birthday!"

Layla hesitated for a moment before shaking her hand. "Thank you. It's nice to meet you, too, Ms. Wagner."

"Please, call me Carrie."

Layla's father reached for his menu. "Well, now that everybody is here, we should order. I was thinking the Beef Wellington sounded good."

"That does sound delicious, but so does the filet mignon. Or maybe the duck breasts with apricot chutney? I can't decide. Which would you recommend, Richard?"

Frowning, Layla hid her face as she pretended to study the menu. Was Caroline her father's date, or had he invited the director to join them in yet another attempt to convince her to leave Kaleido Stage and pursue a career in film? Either way, Layla didn't appreciate some woman she had never met attending what was supposed to be her special birthday dinner.

"Layla, have you decided what you want to order, or do you need a few more minutes?" her father asked when the waiter came to take their order, breaking Layla from her thoughts.

"Oh…" She glanced down at the menu and picked something at random, having mostly lost her appetite. "I'll have the Cornish hen with potatoes."

"Excellent choice," the waiter said, taking their menus. "I'll return with your meal as soon as it is ready."

Once he had left, Caroline turned her attention to Layla. "So, Layla, I hear you are the current headliner at Kaleido Stage?"

"Yes, with my partner, Yuri Killian."

"I attended a Kaleido Stage show a few years back. I'm always amazed at the stunts you acrobats can pull off without the special effects we use in the movie business. It's so thrilling!"

"Yes, Layla is very talented," her father said. "In fact, she might just be the perfect actress to play the lead in your next action movie, Carrie."

Inwardly, Layla sighed. So it was another movie offer after all. A part of her was relieved that Caroline wasn't her father's girlfriend, but it still bothered her that her father wouldn't stop trying to push her into a movie career even on her birthday. Not that she could ever tell him that… Even at nineteen years old, she still wanted to please him.

"I'm sure she's great, Richard, but you know I was hoping to cast a more experienced actress in that role," Caroline said, surprising Layla. "It's difficult enough trying to make a name for myself as a female director in Hollywood without relying on untested talent. This movie could be my big break, and the studio will expect a lead with proven star power."

"I know, but you're a fantastic director, and soon everybody will realize that, honey," he said, kissing the back of Caroline's hand.

Layla set down the glass of water she had been drinking, feeling as if she had been punched in the gut. "Are you two…dating?" she asked.

Releasing Caroline's hand, her father cleared his throat. "Ah, yes… We have been seeing each other for a while now. How long has it been?"

"Eight months," Caroline replied. "Remember, we met at the New Year's party thrown by the Silvermans?"

"Oh, right, right. That was definitely a night to remember, wasn't it?"

Perhaps to him, but for Layla, it was a night she would much rather forget. It was during that party she had fooled around with Mateo, the handsome cater waiter. She didn't recall seeing Caroline there, though. Her father must have met her after she and Mateo snuck off to the Silvermans's pool house to hook up shortly before midnight.

Underneath the table, Layla's hands balled into fists in her lap, although she kept her face as neutral as possible. "Why didn't you tell me you were dating someone, Father?"

"I wanted to, but I thought it best to wait until our relationship was more serious before introducing you. Besides, we are seldom even in the same country. Carrie has been filming her latest movie on location in the Czech Republic for the past four months."

"It's a beautiful country," Caroline said. "Have you ever been, Layla?"

"No."

"I wish I could show you some pictures, but I don't have my phone on me at the moment. I'll have to show you later."

"Yes, maybe some other time," Layla said, standing up. "Excuse me, but I need to powder my nose."

Without giving Caroline the chance to join her, Layla headed to the ladies' room, relieved to find it empty. As she stood in front of the vanity mirror, she brought her hand to her mouth and choked back a sob.

She didn't understand why she was so upset about her father having a girlfriend. Her mother had died a long time ago; it was about time he moved on. It wasn't as if she expected him to remain in mourning for the rest of his life. And Caroline seemed perfectly nice. Had they met under different circumstances, Layla probably would have admired her as a hard-working, driven woman much like herself, yet…

Layla shook her head, dabbing away the few tears that had managed to roll down her cheeks with a tissue. After her mother's death, she had promised herself that she would never cry again, and she certainly had no intention of breaking down in the middle of the ladies' restroom. She took in a deep breath to calm herself down, then touched up her make-up before returning to the table.

Somehow, Layla managed to get through the rest of dinner with her father and his new girlfriend without betraying her emotions. She just pretended Caroline was another director her father wanted her to meet, making a point to ignore any flirtation or signs of affection between them. The delusion worked until it was time to leave and her father revealed that he planned to spend the night at the penthouse apartment instead of coming home with her.

"Oh, of course," Layla said softly. Caroline had just come back to the States after spending the past four months filming in Europe; it made sense that they would want to spend some time alone together.

"It was lovely to finally meet you, Layla," Caroline said as the town car pulled up in front of the restaurant. "We should get together sometime, just us girls, and get to know each other better. We could make a day of it."

Nothing sounded less appealing to Layla, but she smiled, not wanting to upset her father by being rude. "Maybe, but Kaleido Stage keeps me very busy. I don't have much free time."

Caroline chuckled. "You are very much your father's daughter in that regard."

Her father stepped forward, kissing Layla on the cheek as Henry got out of the car to open the back door. "Good night, sweetheart," he said. "I'll see you later."

"Good night, Father…Ms. Wagner." The one act of rebellion she allowed herself was refusing to call his girlfriend by her nickname, despite Caroline's repeated insistence throughout the night to call her Carrie.

She finally seemed to have given up on that, though, linking her arm with his and waving good-bye as Layla slid into the backseat. Layla didn't bother waving back, staring straight ahead as she told Henry to take her home.

Despite her best intentions, however, she couldn't resist taking one last look back at the couple as the car pulled away. A valet had brought a red Mustang Layla didn't recognize to the front of the restaurant, her father and Caroline sharing a tender kiss before they got into the car. A dull ache pained Layla's heart at the sight, and she quickly whipped her head back around, her fingers digging into the skirt of her teal dress.

Macquarie was waiting for her when she arrived back at the estate. "Welcome home, Miss Layla," the maid greeted her, bowing respectfully before looking behind her. "Is Mr. Hamilton not with you?"

"He's spending the night at the penthouse."

"Ah, I see. Well, at least he made it back to town in time for your birthday dinner. Did you have a nice time?"

"I don't really want to talk about it, Macquarie," Layla said as she started up the staircase, hating the way her voice slightly wavered. "It's been a long day. I'm tired, so I'm going to bed."

"Oh, okay. Good night, Miss Layla."

When she made it up to her bedroom, Layla sat down on the edge of her bed and reached for the picture frame propped up on the nightstand. The picture inside was the only personal photograph she displayed in her room. It had been taken a few months before her mother's death, when she and her parents had attended a Kaleido Stage production of _Alice in Wonderland_.

Normally, the photo made Layla smile, reminding her of the wonderful memories of that day, but her eyes misted over as she stared down at the image of her beautiful mother.

"I should be happy for him, shouldn't I?" she asked aloud, her finger brushing over the glass. "I know it's silly to be upset, and I know you wouldn't mind Father dating again, but I…" A tear rolled down her cheek. "I just can't, Mother."

Layla laid back on the bed, placing the photograph facedown on the mattress beside her. More tears flowed, yet she made no attempt to stop them that time, no longer caring about keeping her vow. Sobs wracked through her body as she curled on her side into the fetal position.

Seeing her father with Caroline felt almost like losing her mother all over again, undeniable proof that she was gone and never coming back again. Layla, of course, already knew that, yet…

She sat back up, wiping her tears away with her hands. There were three more hours before her birthday officially ended, and she refused to spend it crying over her father.

After grabbing a nightgown from her dresser, Layla headed to her en-suite bathroom and looked in the mirror above the sink. Her once beautifully made-up face was a fright, marred by runny mascara and smudged lipstick. She wiped off the ruined cosmetics and ran a brush through her tangled hair. She then stripped out of her new party dress and changed into her nightclothes.

She intended to just go to bed and forget what a miserable day it had been, but sleep did not come easily. After tossing and turning for about forty minutes, Layla reached for her purse and pulled out her cell phone.

_It's almost ten o'clock,_ she thought, glancing at the time on the display. _He might already be asleep. I shouldn't disturb him this late…_

Yet, against her better judgement, she hit the speed dial and brought the phone up to her ear.

DISCLAIMER: "Kaleido Star" doesn't belong to me.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: It's getting close to the end – only two more chapters! Again, I'm not sure when I'll be able to update, but I promise this fic will not be abandoned.

Feel free to follow me on Tumblr. My username is kaleidodreams.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Yuri walked out of his steamy bathroom after taking a shower, towel-drying his hair, another towel wrapped securely around his waist**. **He had stopped at his dresser to pull out his favorite pair of pajama bottoms when the cell phone he had set on top started ringing. Looking at the Caller ID, he was surprised to see it was Layla.

Why was she calling him so late? Yuri sighed, tempted just to let the call go to voice mail. He still needed to talk to her about ending their arrangement, but doing it over the phone didn't sit right with him. Layla deserved better than that. Besides, they would see each other tomorrow. Whatever she wanted to discuss could probably wait until then.

Curiosity, however, got the best of him. On the fifth ring, he picked up the phone and flipped it open, taking a deep breath before bringing the phone to his ear. "Hey, Layla. What's up?"

"Were you sleeping?" she asked. "I'm sorry if I woke you. I know it's late..."

"No, I was just getting ready for bed."

"O-Oh."

Yuri frowned, sensing something was bothering her. She didn't sound like her usual self, her voice soft and wavering. "Is something wrong?"

"No, of course not." She spoke louder, trying to sound strong and confident – more like the usual Layla – but her voice slightly cracked, betraying her lie. "Dammit, I said I wasn't going to cry anymore tonight," she muttered, seemingly more to herself than to Yuri.

"What's wrong? Did something happen with your father?" He remembered she had plans to celebrate her birthday with Mr. Hamilton. Had he canceled last minute?

"It's nothing." She sniffled. "Um, don't worry about it. You should get some sleep. I'll be fine."

Of course he was going to worry when the woman he possibly loved called him, upset about something she refused to tell him about. "Layla, do you want me to come over?" Yuri asked, not really thinking – only knowing that he couldn't bear the thought of her crying on what should have been a happy day for her.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Will you?"

Yuri was already pulling a clean shirt from his closet. "Let me get dressed, and I'll be there in about fifteen minutes, okay?"

"Thanks. Text me when you arrive. I'll let you in."

* * *

Layla waited at the bottom of the stairs for Yuri to arrive, worrying at her bottom lip. She hoped Macquarie wouldn't wake up and start asking questions. Even if she was an adult, and even if it shouldn't be a big deal to invite a guy over… She just wasn't ready for that.

In fact, she was beginning to regret accepting Yuri's offer to come over. Things were already weird between them after what happened the night of the anniversary party. She wondered what had possessed her to call him in the first place.

_I'll tell him to forget about it_, she decided, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket with the intention of calling him to cancel. However, at that moment, her phone vibrated, indicating she had received a text message.

Yuri had arrived right on time.

Layla stood up and walked over to the console table, setting her phone on top**. **A mirror hung above the table, and she stared at her reflection for a long moment, not liking what she saw. Her eyes were rimmed in red, her cheeks blotchy and tear-stained… She should have used the time she was waiting to put on some make-up but it was too late to worry about that now. She took in a deep breath to calm herself, then answered the door.

"Hey, Yuri," she said, forcing herself to smile. "Thanks for coming. I know it's late."

Though he had to have noticed how miserable she looked, Yuri didn't comment on it. "No problem," he said, coming inside.

Layla closed the door behind him, then started up the stairs. "Let's go up to my room," she decided, motioning for him to follow her.

Minutes before she had intended to send Yuri away, but now that he was here, she didn't want him to go. The moment they were safely in her bedroom, she kissed him, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

She wanted him.

Needed him.

"Layla, wait." Yuri gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists, pulling her hands away. "Is this really what you want to do right now? I don't know exactly what happened, but –"

"I don't feel like talking about it," she interrupted, looking down at her hands. "I just want to feel good for a little while, okay?"

"If that's what you want, but –"

"I do." She lifted up her head, her eyes meeting his. "Make love to me, Yuri," she whispered, pleading. "Please."

Yuri visibly swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Okay."

He released his grip on her wrists, allowing Layla to finish unbuttoning his shirt. He then untied the sash on her robe, sliding the silk fabric off of her shoulders and onto the floor. Underneath, she wore a light blue chemise of matching fabric. Placing his hands on her cheeks, he paused for a moment before brushing his lips against hers.

Yuri's kisses were soft, more tender than the technique he usually used. It took Layla by surprise at first, but she didn't dislike it. In fact, it made her heart flutter, her body quivering in response.

His hands eventually left her face, but he didn't fondle her breasts or squeeze her butt as was his usual modus operandi. Instead, he placed his hands on her hips, her arms rising to wrap around his neck as she guided him toward the bed.

Yuri carefully pushed her down on the mattress, disengaging only long enough to discard his shirt. He then joined her on the bed, resuming those gentle, sweet kisses that Layla was quickly becoming addicted to.

Neither were interested in rushing things, their hands caressing and exploring each other's bodies as if for the very first time. She felt the strength of his muscles, the hardness of his abs, the sharpness of his jawline – but also the softness of his hands, the light fuzz of stubble on his face, the pounding of his heartbeat.

"You smell nice," Yuri murmured as he buried his face in her neck. "Is that the perfume I gave you?"

Layla nodded, letting out a small moan when he kissed the spot just underneath her earlobe. He smelled pretty good himself. She suspected he had just gotten out of the shower when she called. The fresh scent of soap and shampoo tickled her nose, and his hair was still slightly damp. She couldn't resist running her hands through it, curling the strands around her fingers.

Yuri's lips traveled lower, but just before he reached the swell of her breasts, he stopped and sat back up.

"Yuri?" Layla looked up at him in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"I don't think we should go any further."

"Why?" she asked. She sat up as well, one of the thin straps of her nightgown sliding down her shoulder. "I told you this is what I wanted. You're not taking advantage of me, if that's what is worrying you."

"It's not that." Sighing, he ran his hand through the damp hair she had just been playing with. "I forgot to bring a condom. You wouldn't happen to have…?"

Layla shook her head. She didn't dare to hide any condoms in her room, not wanting Macquarie to come across them and risk having to answer questions she wasn't ready to answer. "I keep them in my dressing room. I…never expected to call you over here."

"Oh."

Yuri stood back up and picked his shirt from off the floor, but Layla grabbed his arm, not wanting him to leave. "I-I don't mind. Just this once, we can do it without one."

"Are you sure?" he asked, turning back around to face her, though his eyes refused to meant hers. "I mean, we don't have to have intercourse. If you want, I can –"

She again shook her head. That wasn't what she wanted! If all she wanted was an orgasm, she could have taken care of that herself.

"I want you, Yuri," she said in a low voice, standing to wrap her arms around his waist. "All of you."

"Layla… We shouldn't. This wasn't the arrangement. Besides…"

His voice trailed off, and Layla looked up, seized by a thought she hadn't wanted to consider. "Have there been others? Is that why?"

"No," he said, answering the question she had stopped him from replying to that time in the shower. His voice was barely above a whisper. "There's been no one but you."

He reached up to brush a strand of hair out of her face, and Layla smiled, so glad to hear that. Despite all her claims to the contrary, she had never really been okay with the idea of him sleeping with other women. She tried forcing herself to be, thinking it was the only way to get what she wanted, but it would have broken her heart to learn he had other lovers.

But…was Yuri telling the truth? Or was he just saying what she wanted to hear because he wanted to get laid? Layla stared up into his eyes, searching for any hint of deception. Though she couldn't be a hundred percent certain, she sensed that his answer was sincere.

"Layla…" His thumb traced the outline of her bottom lip. "I… I mean, are you absolutely sure?"

In answer, Layla took a step back and slid her remaining strap down her shoulder, the chemise falling to the feet to reveal her nude body.

Yuri sucked in a breath at the sight, his fingers immediately going to the fly of his jeans. As he struggled out of his pants, Layla positioned herself in the center of the mattress, laying back against the large number of pillows that decorated her bed. Outwardly, she tried to project an aura of calm, but inside, her heart was racing, and she had to clench her hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

It didn't take long for Yuri to join her, situating himself in between her legs. His eyes locked with hers as he entered her, and Layla felt her cheeks warm, her heartbeat quickening even more, if that was possible.

_Why am I suddenly so flustered?_ She turned her head to the side, biting her bottom lip. _It's not like this is the first time we've slept together…_

"Look at me, Layla."

Layla once again looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were beautiful, a pale silvery-blue color that reminded her of ice, although there was nothing cold about the way he looked at her. He seemed to be silently asking her if it was okay to continue, so she pulled his face close and kissed him, giving him the encouragement he needed.

Yuri again took his time, leisurely rocking against her as his hands caressed her body and his mouth claimed her lips. The uncharacteristic nerves she felt before eventually melted away, replaced with a slow-building, almost torturous desire. Layla moaned into his mouth, her fingertips roving up and down his muscular back.

His kisses moved downward, first fluttering along her jawline, then down to her neck. She closed her eyes as he found the most sensitive spot, a soft sigh of pleasure escaping her lips. One of Yuri's hands slid up the side of her thigh, coming to a rest on her hip as he shifted deeper inside her, and Layla gasped.

For a moment, Yuri stopped what he was doing, their eyes once again meeting. Assuring him that she was okay, she reached up and brushed the hair out of his eyes before placing her hand on the nape of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss, one more passionate than before. Her fingers tangled in his damp hair as Yuri resumed thrusting inside her, murmuring her name in between feverish kisses.

The pressure that had been building inside of her finally burst, stronger and more powerful than Layla had ever experienced before. She cried out in surprise, burying her face in Yuri's shoulder to muffle the sound. Almost simultaneously, he came as well, his seed filling her with an unfamiliar warmth.

For a long moment after it was over, the two of them simply stared at each other, their breathing hard and erratic as they attempted to catch their breath. Layla didn't know what to do or say. They had slept with each other many times by that point, but for the first time, it felt like they had been truly…intimate.

Something had been different, and it wasn't just because of the lack of a condom. The way Yuri had touched her, kissed her… It felt like he had made love to her, for real.

No, she was probably reading too much into it. She had been upset and looking for comfort. It made sense that Yuri would treat her more tenderly than he usually did.

That had to be it...right?

* * *

Yuri was the one who finally broke the somewhat awkward silence that had fallen between them.

"Here." He grabbed his discarded shirt from the foot of the bed and handed it to Layla. "You can use that to clean up some."

"But this is your shirt. I don't wa—"

"It's fine. It'll wash out," he said, climbing off of her.

While Layla used the shirt to wipe between her legs, Yuri sat to the left of her, elbows resting on his knees and fingers tangled in his hair as he struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

He shouldn't have come. After that night at the anniversary party, he should have just ended their arrangement as he planned.

He was in love with Layla. Yuri couldn't deny it any longer. She was the most incredible woman he had ever met.

"Dammit," he whispered.

"Yuri, is something wrong?" Layla asked, pulling Yuri from his thoughts.

"What?" He glanced back at her. "No, it's nothing," he lied.

Yuri turned his back to her, dangling his legs off the side of the bed. The sooner he left, the better. He couldn't think rationally right now, not when the woman he loved was only inches away, naked and beautiful, and every cell in his body wanted to make love to her again and again and again…

However, glancing over at the alarm clock on her nightstand to check the time, he paused when he spotted a framed photograph of a young Layla – maybe around seven or eight years old – with Mr. Hamilton and a beautiful blonde woman he didn't recognize, standing in front of Kaleido Stage. Without thinking, Yuri picked up the picture frame and stared at the photo.

"Is this your mother?" he asked.

Layla crawled up behind him, her soft breasts pressed against his back, and looked over his shoulder at the picture. "Yes. That was taken shortly before she died."

Yuri sucked in a breath. He hadn't known her mother was dead. Since Layla never spoke about her, he'd just assumed her parents were divorced.

"That was one of the happiest days of my life," she continued, apparently not noticing his reaction. She smiled, but Yuri detected a tinge of sadness behind it. "Father was always busy with his work, but for once he took the day off, and we went to Kaleido Stage to see _Alice in Wonderland_." Looking at Yuri, she asked, "Did you ever see that show?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Donna Walker was amazing in the role of Alice, wasn't she? When I saw her perform, I knew I wanted to be just like her one day."

"You really love Kaleido Stage, don't you?" he asked.

"Of course. Don't you?"

Sighing, Yuri set the frame back down on the nightstand, but didn't answer her question.

"Yuri?"

"My father was the White Rabbit," he said after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What?"

Yuri spoke a little louder. "In the _Alice in Wonderland_ show, my father played the role of the White Rabbit," he said, running a hand through his hair and mentally cursing.

What the hell was he doing? He had been so careful not to reveal his secret parentage around members of Kaleido Stage, especially Layla.

"Aaron Brass, right?" Her embrace around him tightened. "One of the co-founders of Kaleido Stage and the first Kaleido Star, but he died while attempting to perform a dangerous stunt."

Yuri inhaled sharply. "You knew? But how…?"

"I'm so sorry, Yuri. I know how painful it must have been," she said, not answering his question.

He sighed. "It was a long time ago."

"But it never stops hurting, does it?"

"No," he admitted softly. "It never does."

Layla kissed the back of his shoulder, and Yuri closed his eyes, blinking back the unexpected tears that threatened to fall. They stayed like that for a long moment until Yuri extracted himself from her embrace and stood up, swiping his arm over his eyes. "I should probably go," he said, grabbing his jeans from off the floor. "It's getting late."

"Wait." She reached for his elbow. "Don't."

"Layla…"

"I'm not asking you to spend the night," she said, letting go of him and pulling the blankets over her as she lay down, "but will you at least stay until I fall asleep?"

Yuri hesitated. He knew it probably wasn't a good idea, but…

He remembered Paris, when Layla had stayed by his side through the night as he wept, offering silent comfort he had hardly deserved. She had been there for him in his time of need; the very least he could do was return the favor.

"Okay," he agreed.

After pulling his pants back on, Yuri slipped under the sheets and wrapped his arms around Layla. Her head rested against his bare chest, the smell of sex and perfume surrounding him in an intoxicating fragrance that he fought hard to ignore. Instead, he concentrated on his breathing, slowly inhaling and exhaling as he willed his heart to stop beating so fast.

It didn't take long for Layla to nod off, her own breathing falling into a soft and steady rhythm as her eyes fluttered close. Yuri had intended to leave as soon as she was asleep, yet he remained as he was, stealing whatever remaining moments he could.

He had made his decision – for good, this time. No more hesitation, no more delaying. He would tell her tomorrow, after the show. That way, whatever fallout that happened afterwards wouldn't interfere with their performance.

Sighing, Yuri brushed a strand of Layla's hair off her face. If only this had happened earlier, before Paris. Maybe loving Layla would have convinced him to give up his quest for revenge. Maybe Sophie Oswald would still be alive, and maybe he could have been happy…

Yuri pushed those thoughts away. There was no point in dwelling on "what ifs" and "maybes". Not now.

As quietly as he could, he untangled himself from Layla's embrace and climbed out from underneath the blankets. Layla mumbled in her sleep but, fortunately, she didn't awaken, rolling over on her other side and curling into the fetal position. Yuri released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and slipped on his sneakers. He then grabbed his soiled shirt from where Layla had tossed it on the floor, balling it up in his hands.

He glanced over at the door, wondering if he could chance leaving through the front entrance. The servants were probably still asleep, but he could just imagine the uproar if somebody caught him sneaking out of Layla's bedroom in the middle of the night. Definitely too risky. Instead, he turned his attention to the window looking out to the front yard, drawing back the curtains and pulling the window open.

There was a large tree about five feet away from the window. For a normal person, it would most likely be suicidal to attempt to jump that far, but for a trained aerialist like Yuri, it was mere child's play. He tossed the balled-up shirt out the window, allowing it to fall to the bushes below, then started to climb up on the sill. However, taking one last look back at Layla, Yuri lowered his foot back to the floor and walked back to the bed, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress.

"I'm sorry, Layla," he whispered, bending down to brush his lips against her soft cheek. "I love you."

She shifted positions, rolling onto her back, but remained fast asleep. A blessing.

Yuri gently pulled the blanket over her bare shoulders before rising, returning to the open window. He crouched down on the window sill and jumped, his hands grabbing onto one of the tree's lower hanging branches. Fortunately, the bark of the tree was relatively smooth, preventing him from scratching up his hands too badly. Keeping a strong grip on the branch, Yuri pulled himself back as if he was preparing to swing on the trapeze, then pushed off the branch, executing a somersault in the air before landing safely on the ground.

After locating his shirt in the shrubbery, Yuri walked back to his car, which he had parked on the next street over in case anybody recognized it. He tossed the soiled shirt – now also covered with leaves and dirt – onto the passenger seat and started the ignition, the radio blaring Eric Clapton's "Layla" as the engine purred to life.

"Seriously?!"

Yuri swore at the universe and smacked the knob that turned off the radio. For one fleeting, irrational moment, he was tempted to tear the console right out of the dashboard, never wanting to risk hearing that song again, but after taking a few deep breaths to calm down, he came back to his senses. His fingers gripping the top of the steering wheel, Yuri sighed and rested his forehead against the back of his hands. Tears once again burned his eyes, but he refused to release them, knowing that he didn't deserve to cry.

Revenge before love. That was how it had to be.

For his father's sake.

DISCLAIMER: "Kaleido Star" doesn't belong to me.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Got this done earlier than I expected. Only one more chapter remains! I'm not sure when it'll get posted as I'm in the middle of writing another fic for a Bang event in another fandom, but hopefully it'll be ready by the end of summer. Thanks for reading!

Feel free to follow me on Tumblr. My username is kaleidodreams.


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